Moonrose
by GlamourGirl190
Summary: Rosamar is a simple wool-worker in the city. Little does anyone know, she has a secret that sits close to her heart. Every night, Rose sneaks away to Tanssi Kuun, a world of seeming perfection. Her task? To protect Tanssi Kuun. But danger is close, and when the king himself gets involved, she must fight for the safety and secrecy of the world she fears will soon be no more.
1. Prologue

**Another new story, and one that I have a fair amount written of beforehand! I'm super excited for this, to be honest. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while.**

**For those of you who've read my TDWAP trilogy, if you liked it this one might be to your liking as well. It's lighter than Finding Eden and more the speed of To Dance With A Prince. I hope you guys enjoy this, because I had so much fun writing it!**

**Disclaimer time! No, I don't own Narnia, but I do own Tanssi Kuun and my OC. Everything else belongs to CS Lewis and his genius.**

**Before you guys ask about updates, since I have a lot of this written already, updates will be coming regularly. I haven't decided how often, but it won't be less than once a month, and I'd like to get a new chapter up a lot sooner than that. We'll see how the editing muse behaves!**

**As always, I love hearing from you lovely readers, so please drop a review and let me know what you think! I do read every one and if you have suggestions, I always take that into consideration. Similarly, I love constructive criticism as well!**

**Without further ado, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Rosamar, may I have a moment?"

A young girl no older than ten quickly slips away from her usual place in the corner of the room she shares with her younger sister and rushes to the door.

"Yes, Aunt?"

The older woman's eyes light up at the sound of the girl's high-pitched voice. It annoys most of Rose's immediate family, but Aunt has always found it endearing.

"Come child, take a seat," she says as she steps inside and closes the door behind her.

"My sister-"

"-Won't be bothering us for a few hours. It's only you and I in the house for now, Rose."

Immediately, the girl's slim shoulders relax. She's always been sure of her family's contempt, even though a small part of her feels silly for thinking they exist only to make her miserable. Even though her aunt chides her for the petty thoughts, they stay with a will of their own. In Rosamar's eyes, her aunt is one of the few decent apples of the bunch, the only one who was consistently and truly kind to her. Father often accuses her of seeking out Aunt's favor, but Rose has always been far too shy to consciously consider that. No, Aunt finds the girl's quiet and perhaps submissive demeanor refreshing. At least, that's what she's told her time and again.

"What's going on, Aunt?" Rosamar asks when Aunt starts fiddling with something hidden in her sleeve. Aunt never fiddles or fidgets.

"Rose, child, it's time you knew something about me, and your own future."

"My future?"

The girl scrunches her eyebrows together and tilts her head to one side. As far as she'd ever been told, the future was for taking care of a house and marrying some well-connected man and having kids of her own – sons, to keep the man happy.

"As I'm sure you know, the rest of this family is not quite...well, I could never trust any of them with this, save you. You must promise me to keep it a secret from them, do you understand?"

Rose's young, slightly-too-bushy eyebrows pinch together, but she nods.

"Very good. I am about to tell you a very big secret, Rose. But first, I need you to understand exactly how important it is. Listen carefully, child. You will need every word I say."

Slight trepidation runs warm through Rose's veins, but she inclines her head. If Aunt sees fit to trust her with something, who is she to object?

At the child's acceptance, Aunt reaches out and brushes the back of her hand against the young, soft cheek, her fond smile shining in her eyes.

"Bless you, child." Aunt starts to continue, but her mouth suddenly closes, and opens, and closes again. She lets out a short laugh and taps her forearm with two fingers, as she often does when frustrated with herself.

"Forgive me Rose, words suddenly failed me. I've never had to tell anyone of this before."

"Take all the time you need, aunt."

Her hand pats the side of Rose's head, and she closes her eyes to gather herself, or so the girl assumes.

"Rose, you are young yet, but you surely know how odd and, indeed, very cruel the world can be."

"Do you mean the old stories about the Narnians, aunt?"

"No, child. Your family is not too kind, is it?"

"No!" Rose surprises herself with the shout. She's never shouted before. But then, no one's asked her before.

"What if there could be a place where there was no unkindness such as this? Where people spent their days learning and growing and simply enjoying each other's company, without yelling or fighting? If disagreements were rare and civil and not as they are here in Beruna?"

"Aunt, what do you mean by 'civil'?" Rose hadn't learned that word in school yet.

"Civil? Civil disagreement means there is respect in the disagreeing. Two sides may think different things, but they both listen to each other and are willing to learn and come to an agreement with elements of what they each wanted. Does that explain it for you?"

"How could something like that work? It'd be so odd to see…" the child muses. In Beruna, she's only ever seen disagreeing sides tear each other to shreds, either with words or fists.

"But a good odd, no?"

Rosamar nods. That does sound nice.

"Bloody noses aren't pretty."

Aunt throws her head back and laughs at that, drawing one of Rose's rare smiles to her lips.

"No, indeed," she chuckles. "Now, where was I?"

"A place with respect and kindness?"

"Ah yes! And if this place was filled with magic and dance and every good and beautiful there is?"

"Why, that can't exist, aunt. Nothing so perfect can. It'd be destroyed, of course."

"Rose, child, there is such a place. It is called Tanssi Kuun, and it is another world entirely, in the most literal sense."

"Another world?" A sudden jolt of hope shoots a hole in the child's confusion. "May we go there, aunt?"

"I have been there many times, Rose. I protect it."

Young eyes gaze up at Aunt with an awed sort of respect.

"Is that why you sometimes swing kitchen knives around when Mother isn't looking?"

Aunt laughs briefly, and pats the black-haired head.

"Yes. Do you know why I protect it, Rose?"

The girl thinks on that for a few moments, but the answer comes easily.

"Because it's perfect, and everyone here would ruin it."

"Not everyone in this world would ruin it, but there are many who would. The beings of Tanssi Kuun, the faeries," Aunt pauses, tapping her fingers on her forearm again. "They have no skills with a blade or with protecting themselves. Thus, there must be someone who looks after their well-being and that of their world."

"And that's you, aunt."

"Yes. And someday, if you accept the role, it will be you."

The child's eyes widen visibly.

"Aunt, I could never-"

"You do not wish to?" A slight color of fear tinges her voice and jolts Rosamar from her reverie.

"I would be honored, aunt, but I have no skills with blades or protecting, or with words either. I could not negotiate for them or fight for them."

"Rose, I will teach you, you needn't worry. But you must understand that it won't be easy."

"I'm young, Aunt, but I know that," answers the young girl serenely, as if it's the most obvious thing she's ever heard in the entire world.

Aunt laughs once more before pulling two disk-like things from her sleeve, the things she's been fidgeting with this whole time.

"I'm getting old, Rose, and soon I won't be able to protect Tanssi Kuun as it needs to be protected. Will you accept the role in my place?"

Rose don't even have to think. Her head bobs up and down in the most enthusiastic nod she thinks she's ever given.

"Teach me everything you know."

"There is more I need to tell you before I give you these pendants."

Immediately, the excited young girl settles down and fixes her eager gaze on the older woman once more.

"Ever the attentive listener," she says fondly.

Small and rounded shoulders hitch up slightly in embarrassment, but Rose waits semi-patiently for her to continue.

"To get to Tanssi Kuun, you must find the tree with the engraving to match this," here she holds up the pendants, "and speak the word 'Kuu.' In their language, it means 'moon.' A fitting phrase, and you'll see why when you go there yourself."

"When can I go there, aunt?"

"I was getting to that. Every time this pendant changes ownership, and this is the original of the two," she holds up the older-looking one, "the new owner must find his or her own tree. When I give this to you, the tree I use to enter Tanssi Kuun will no longer be the door, and you'll have to find the tree that is yours. You understand, thus far?"

Hesitantly, the girl nods, even as she thinks to herself that there are a great many trees in Narnia, even in only Beruna, and isn't that a little excessive, to scour every tree in the world?

"Good. You must keep this with you at all times, do you understand? If anyone were to find it without you giving them ownership, they could find your tree and enter Tanssi Kuun."

"Would it be so bad if they were a friend?"

"Even friends can't be fully trusted, Rose. A best friend one day may be an enemy the next. You must be very, very careful to whom you entrust this secret."

"Did you tell anyone about Tanssi Kuun, aunt? Other than me?"

"No. You are the first."

The girl's curiosity continues to run away with her, and she can't help but blurt out, "Who gave it to you? The original pendant?"

"My grandmother gave it to me, when she was on her deathbed."

"Why are you telling me about this now?"

"I've told you, Rose, I'm getting older. I don't want to take the chance on something happening."

Rose accepts this quietly and continues her eager interrogation.

"Why are there two pendants?"

"A good question. The second is a spare, and if it changes hands the entry tree will not change. The spare is yours to do with as you will. Some owners find someone they trust with their lives and more, and they give that person the spare, in case something should happen to them. I never found one I could trust that much."

"Will I?" Rose wonders aloud. It seems a strange thought, and a dangerous one at that. She certainly don't have someone she trust like that now.

"You may, you may not. Giving away the spare isn't the norm, but it is by no means unheard of."

"What happens if someone else gets hold of the spare?"

"You pray, and you fight to get it back."

The suddenly grave answer sobers the girl's exuberance a good bit. Caution enters her enthusiasm, and by the slight smile on Aunt's face, she approves.

"Yes, Aunt."

The woman regards her niece for a moment, her eyes softening at the innocence shining in the young face. Yes, she has chosen a worthy successor.

Rose, however, isn't so inclined to keep silence.

"What's it like there? What kinds of dances do they dance? Do they play music? Do they sing? Do they-"

"Ah, now that I cannot tell you," Aunt answers, tweaking the young nose fondly. "It's tradition for the protector to tell the protector-to-be only the minimal information."

"Why?"

"We often value things much more if we discover them for ourselves."

There's a wisdom to the older woman's words that quiets Rose's abundant questions.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, aunt."

"You're welcome, Rose. Promise me, you will always be painstakingly cautious?"

"Always," the girl answers sincerely, head bowing slightly of its own will.

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Aunt straightens and turns to face her soon-to-be successor straight on, the pendants resting in her palms.

"Rosamar, do you swear on the Nine Great Lights that you will protect Tanssi Kuun to the best of your ability, and even beyond?"

"I swear it."

With that, Aunt presses the pendants into the girl's open hands, and instantly they warm almost to burning. For a few frightening moments, Rose begins to fear they'll catch fire as they brighten from dull copper to the deep red of coal embers.

"Kuu," Aunt says, looking at her niece expectantly.

"Kuu," repeats the stunned girl.

A flash of deep red later, the pendants return to their normal color.

"Your training starts tomorrow," Aunt states.

"I'll make you proud, I promise," the new successor whispers.

"Yes, Rose, I believe you will."

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**On to chapter 1! I must say, I was quite happy with the response I got just for the prologue. You guys are always so awesome, and you're why I love posting my work on this site!**

**A quick note on the format of this story, since it's a bit different than my others: I'm actually going to be working with three different points of view: Rose's (which I have in first person because I tried it in third and first came out better), Darin's (OC who will be introduced soon!), and Caspian's (couldn't resist...). I'll have notes at the top of each chapter to let you know which POV it's in so hopefully it won't be confusing.**

**So many thank you's to all of you who've favorited, followed, and especially to those who reviewed! Sarahwood, grandprincessanastasiaromanov5, and wildhorses1492, you are awesome! A note on the reviews I can't reply to via PM: I'll reply to them at the bottom of each chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**(Rosamar POV)**

My tired feet at last reach the bridge, but I forget about them altogether when I look up at the massive stone walls and towers stretching into the sky. I'd heard that the Telmarine castle was a giant among castles, but even that description seems insignificant. I feel no bigger than a baby ant as I stride across the bridge toward the city that surrounds it, towards my new home.

A few times, I stumble over an uneven cobblestone, but I blame it more on my distraction than my road-wearied feet. How was it possible to build something so massive? I hope none of the workers were afraid of heights.

Excited chatter sounds all around me, and I have to dodge a horde of scampering children waving brightly colored strips of cloth.

"Lozette, do be careful! Stay where I can see you!" shouts a concerned parent from somewhere off to my left.

My eyes follow the children until I can't look away from the castle and the city any longer. I could stand and stare for a lifetime, but I need to get to my new workplace so I can move into my new home. I've heard it's quite spartan, but I'd much rather live in a mouse-hole here than in a mansion back at Beruna.

And as I had no luck finding my entry tree there, I can only hope I'll find it around here. Aunt did warn me it might take years to find...I can only hope Tanssi Kuun will take care of itself while I try to find my way in.

At the thought of my aunt, a lump rises in my throat, but I quickly push it back down. Today my new life starts, and I refuse to start it by crying, especially in public.

I quickly turn my thoughts toward something else, which happens to be another round of rowdy young ones. But wait, this bunch is different: not so happy and cordial as the previous.

A frown spreads over my face as I see a young boy, clearly a good three years younger than his peers, shoved to the back of the bunch and abandoned there. I bite my tongue to keep from snapping a reprimand at the children who laugh when he stumbles over a cobblestone and goes sprawling on his chubby little tummy.

Quicker than I can think, my feet take me to his side.

"Those stones can be really mean, can't they?" I ask, smiling at the boy as I extend my hand to him.

He stares at the offer of help with a trembling lip and disbelieving eyes before grabbing the very tips of my fingers. I smile wider as I gently pull him back to his feet.

"T'ank you," he mumbles, shoulders hunched toward his ears and eyes studying the stones under his shoes.

I study him for a moment, my forehead creasing when his sheepishness doesn't let up.

"You know when I was a little girl, I once fell into a great big puddle of mud?"

His light brown eyes flit up to study me, suspicious of me.

"You did?"

"I tore a hole in my dress, and look at you! I can't even tell you took a tumble."

The corners of his mouth start to tip upward, and I can't help but smile wider in response.

"What's your name?" I ask him as I guide us both out of the way of a rickety wagon rattling with pots and pans.

"Nico," he answers, quiet as a mouse.

"Well, Nico, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Rosamar," I reply, shaking his hand slowly.

"Ros-a-mor?" he attempts.

"Rose, if that's easier to say. Rosamar can be a bit of a mouthful, can't it?"

The boy doesn't answer outright, but I'm rewarded with a real smile.

"Nico, come along now!" calls a middle-aged man a few paces ahead.

While Nico turns to nod his obedience, I slip my hand into my bag. When he turns back to face me, presumably to say goodbye, I hand him the pear.

"I always like one of these on mornings like this," I say as I press the fruit into his stubby hands.

"T'ank you!" His entire face spreads into a gap-toothed smile then, and my own widens to span from ear-to-ear.

I give his hand one last squeeze and ruffle his hair as he waves goodbye and toddles off, the pear in his mouth before he's taken two full steps.

'A nice way to start my new life,' I muse to myself as I straighten and continue on my way.

After many minutes of slipping along through the crowd and gaping at the ever-closer castle ahead of me, I finally make it across the bridge and into the city.

'Is it always this crowded?' wonders the solitude-loving part of me.

"Let's hope not," I mutter, squeezing through a particularly tight throng of giggling girls a few years my juniors. They all seem to be chattering about something, but I don't have the interest to listen and figure out what they're talking about. My ears picked up "handsome" and "dashing", and that was all I needed to hear. I'm not one to fawn over an supposedly attractive member of the opposite sex.

I'm about to cross the street, but I'm pushed back by the crowd suddenly surging tighter together, all craning their necks at something clip-clopping this way.

Slight annoyance presses my lips into a thin line, and I have to fight it back. Better not to start a new life getting short with my possible next-door neighbors.

"Didn't I tell you he was handsome?!" squeals a girl with a particularly high-pitched voice.

I refrain from rolling my eyes, but only because I'm too busy trying to fight my way through the crowd down the street.

Suddenly, the girls stop squealing, and a few collective gasps rise up amid the cheering. That does manage to get my curiosity, so I turn my gaze from my destination a few blocks down to the street. When I see the massive lion padding along next to a young man on a horse, I gasp too. I've seen that lion before.

"Aslan?" I whisper reverently. Yes, that can't be anyone other than the Great Lion Aslan. I thought he was regal the first time I saw him, but I can fully appreciate his majesty now that I can see his face, rather than only his back.

The cheering continues as I remain entranced by the sight of Aslan, walking the same street I'll be walking for the forseeable future.

Then I remember. Today is Prince Caspian's coronation. Well, King Caspian now. The young man beside Aslan must be the new king: the Telmarine crown is perched on his dark-haired head. He must've been the 'he' the girls were screeching about as well. A few of them resume their antics, maybe in the hopes he'll notice them. I almost smile in amusement, but I forget to when the new king's eyes suddenly connect with my own.

I swallow the lump of fear in my throat when a slight twinge of recognition flickers in the pit of my stomach. No, I don't know him. I've seen him before, yes, but he doesn't know me.

Luckily, his gaze moves on before I can puzzle over it any further. I watch the rest of the procession go on by, smirking slightly to myself when the girls shift their praises to focus on a blonde-haired young man riding behind King Caspian. I suppose he must be one of the Kings of Old. Rumor has it the four Kings and Queens from Narnia's Golden Age over a thousand years ago returned and helped Prince Caspian win back the throne from his uncle Miraz.

Eventually, the procession of Kings and Queens and Narnians passes on, and the crowds loosen up enough to let me continue squeezing past them. It's time I found my new home.

And to my delight, it turns out to be very easy to find, right along the street. I can even see the spinning wheels from the window. I take a deep breath, remind myself that I can do this, and walk through the open door.

"Ah, you must be Rosamar! Welcome, child! My my, you are a young thing, aren't you? Not yet twenty, I wager!"

I blink rapidly at the flurry of a greeting as I'm suddenly engulfed in a crushing hug.

"Er…no, madam. I'm only just nineteen," I mumble into her shoulder.

"Well you are young! A bit plain though. A very good thing you didn't look for work in a brothel, child."

My eyebrows jump a few inches up my forehead.

"Well…um…I…thank you?" I finally offer as a reply.

"Yes child, it was a compliment, of sorts. Now, gather your things and come with me. Best get you moved in, and you start as soon as you set your things down in your new home!"

"Y-yes madam," I splutter amid my efforts to take in the snug little shop I'm standing in. I heard this woman was a character, but now I think I understand that she's much more than I bargained for.

"Stop your stuttering child, I can't stand it!" she suddenly barks, releasing me from her crushing hold and grabbing my wrist as she bustles off out the back door.

"Sorry, madam."

"You may call me Sima, child," she answers, a bit kinder now that my voice is steady.

"Alright, Sima."

"Now, have you carded before?"

"I'm afraid I haven't. My family owned a tavern."

"Owned, eh? Not now?"

"It…burned down. Not long ago."

"Ah, and you wanted a new life?"

"I have for some time," I answer simply. I just met this woman; I've no desire to tell her of my history.

"Keep your secrets child, I've no use for them."

An audible sigh of relief escapes me at her dismissal of my vague answer.

We arrive at a row of three small little houses with faded stone walls, a thatched roof, and a pretty wooden door that creaks as Sima sweeps me inside the one on the far right.

"Here we are, your home sweet home. Put your things down, and I expect you back within the quarter hour, you hear?"

"Yes, Sima."

She's gone before I even finish the last syllable of her name, and I take one of my fifteen minutes to process this flurry of a woman. Well, I'll never be bored, that's a certainty. I'm not entirely sure how to feel about her, but I think she's a good woman. Eccentric and opinionated with most likely high expectations, but infinitely better than my parents.

My only concern is finding time to slip away to the woods and search for my entry tree; the one I've spent the past year looking for without any luck. But then again, that's what nighttime is for. I work best at night anyhow. The darkness doesn't unnerve me like it does most people. I welcome it. I can be what I like, with the darkness to cloak me.

I shake my head to quiet my thoughts and quickly lay my few bags in my living space. It's small, but it is cozy. The packed floor is clean and the walls are free of cobwebs, and there's even a quaint-looking fireplace. Heaven only knows where I'll get wood for it, since I always feel guilty about taking wood from trees, but it's a nice to have nonetheless.

I run my fingers over the sandpapered table, careful to avoid the splintering patch on the corner. I don't imagine I'll card very well with a sliver of wood embedded in my finger.

For now, that might be all the exploring I have time for, though there isn't much else to see. I'd like to impress Sima on my first day, if I can, and being back early might help with that. This new life looks like it could be quite a happy one, and I'm more than ready to start it.

It seems Sima's more than ready as well; the very instant my foot steps back inside the threshold of the workshop, she bustles over and thrusts a full basket of wool as wide as one and a half me's into my arms and throws two paddles that look very much like square brushes on top.

"Good, you're early! I show you how to card, and you finish this by the end of today. Agreed?"

I nod, but I don't know if she can see my head peeking out from behind the basket, so I call out a respectful "Yes, Sima" and shuffle over to the stool she's standing by, setting the basket down as gently as I can. As it is, a small puff of dust balloons up from the packed dirt floor.

"Sit, child."

"Rose."

"Beg pardon?"

"Call me Rose, please."

Aunt used to call me 'child'…

Sima raises an eyebrow at me, but she shrugs.

"Sit, Rose."

I sit, and place the basket next to me on the floor.

Sima grabs another basket from somewhere behind me and sits it next to me on my other side.

"Watch, and learn quickly. We work fast here," she instructs, the carding paddles already in her hands before she even finishes the first sentence. Fast indeed.

I just nod and focus on her hands as they expertly grab a handful of the raw wool and begin carding. Well, it looks very like brushing it between two brushes, actually. It looks easy enough, if somewhat tedious.

"Very simple, you see?"

Sima finishes the wool and tosses it into the empty basket.

"After you card it once, put it here. You will card it a second and third time later, but you need a finer paddle for that. You understand, no?"

"I do," I answer confidently. It looks easy indeed, and perhaps she'll let me sing while I do it.

"Good. Get started then, Rose, we only have half the day left!" Sima bustles back to another corner of the workshop and sits down at a spinning wheel, one of the several that I saw from the window.

I only waste a second staring in fascination before I pick up the paddles, grab a bit of wool, and begin.

Inside a minute, my arms are complaining piteously.

'How did she make it seem so easy?' I grumble inside my own head, my humming starting out of desperation.

"See child, it's not so difficult after all, no?"

I grunt out some sort of agreement, but Sima knows I'm being sarcastic and laughs at my grimace.

"You'll get used to it," a young woman I didn't notice before calls. I swivel on my stool to get a better look at the young woman perched at the spinning wheel just behind Sima's. That must be why I didn't see her before.

"I hope so," I answer, praying my arms don't start shaking and give Sima something else to laugh about.

"I'm Lilia, by the way. And you are?" She stops spinning for a moment to extend her hand to me.

"Rosamar. Rose for short, if you like," I say as I lean over and take her hand. The shop is just small enough that I can reach her fingertips.

"Which do you prefer?"

For a moment, I can only blink in confusion. Which do I prefer?

"I…don't know," I admit with just a little embarrassment.

"Let me know when you decide then." Lilia smiles warmly, and I can only stare back in confusion and slight surprise.

Well, now I know that's one thing I'll need to figure out. If she was interested enough to inquire, I'd best know the answer. Not that I expect anyone to repeat her kindness, but I do appreciate it a lot.

"How long have you been here?" I ask. I'd like a good conversation with kind Lilia.

"Two years. I've yet to find a better arrangement."

"And you won't either," Sima cuts in.

"Yes, I know," she laughs right back.

Is this normal, to joke around with our boss?

Lilia seems to notice my confusion, and nods discreetly. Either Sima is a very unique employer, or things back at Beruna are drastically different from things here in the city. I don't know what to think, but I suppose I better get used to it. If I'm to make my living here, I'd better learn how to blend in.

"And don't you worry, Rose, you'll ease up soon." Sima directs this at me and I quickly glance up at her in surprise.

"A job well done, as well," she adds.

I look down to see that my wool is carded, and looks almost as well done as Sima's sample.

"Do you talk often, to pass the time?"

"Very often, yes. It helps distract from any aches as well," Lilia explains with a knowing smile at my arms.

"Ah, but you will walk away with enviable shoulder muscles," Sima laughs as I rub one of my shoulders.

"I thought men were the ones with shoulder muscles," I grumble sarcastically.

"Only the ones who card," Lilia answers. Her straight face only puts a smile on mine.

I think I could grow used to this sort of atmosphere, even if the air in here is heavy with the smell of raw wool.

"If this keeps up, I suspect this will stop feeling like work."

"Quite right, child. Why else would we chatter so?"

"You chatter about anything when the mood strikes you," fires Lilia.

My eyebrows jump, but Sima just laughs. Another surprise in a day of many. I have a lot to learn.

"As long as we don't have to chatter endlessly about handsome men," I mutter, mostly to myself, but Lilia and Sima hear anyway.

"Ah, you heard some of the younger of the adolescent girls fawning over King Caspian?" Sima seems to know exactly what I'm talking about.

I nod as my lips curl inward toward my teeth in annoyance.

"One might think they were talking about a flower to put in their hair or a ribbon for their dress."

"They can be a bit silly, yes. But don't forget, they'll grow out of it."

I turn to Lilia with a slight smirk on my face.

"Please, tell me it'll be tomorrow."

They both chuckle, and I return my focus to my carding. I've still got a whole basket to finish.

And finish it I do, just as the sun sets.

"Impeccable timing, child!"

I nod my thanks to Sima and try not to think about how Aunt used to call me 'child' as well.

"Until tomorrow, Sima."

"With the sun, you hear?" she barks, though I suspect it's more playful than it sounds.

"I think all the city hears," Lilia answers for me.

"Off with you now, both of you!" comes the smirk-laden reply.

"Yes, Sima," we chorus.

Lilia links arms with me as we walk out, and stops for a moment before we part ways.

"I'm glad we met. I think you'll be happy here," she says simply.

I smile as she waves goodbye and disappears into her small abode next to mine.

'I think you're right.'

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	3. Chapter 2

**Good news, readers! I've decided to do unofficial WriMos in February and possibly in March too, so not only does that mean fast updates (we're talking at least one a week, guys!) but it also means that all of my stories will be updated on a schedule. Why is this so great? Because I only had so much written of them, and I knew there was going to be a point where I ran out of prewritten stuff and I'd have to either desert my coursework to write it all or I'd have to slow down updates. But no more! Sorry if that was long-winded, I'm just really excited about this. :)**

**A huge thank you to wild horses1492, Ec1aire, and sarahwood for reviewing! Again, any reviews that I can't respond to via PM I'll reply to at the bottom of this chapter. And of course, thank you to all you favoriters/followers/readers out there as well!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 <strong>

**(Darin POV)**

He awoke dreading this day, the coronation parade, for no other reason than for the crowds he knew would choke the streets. Perhaps it was strange for a blacksmith to hate the deafening noise crowds brought when he works for hours with the loud clanging of metal shaping metal, but Darin never thought it strange at all. However, he stopped minding the occasion so much when he noticed the refreshingly quiet young woman in the crowd, quite obviously new to the city.

He'd been walking along the bridge, returning from a visit to his brother who'd just returned from the war, when he noticed her help the young boy who fell. Such a thing was rare to see from a young woman. A middle-aged woman, perhaps not. But one so young as her? Rare.

Perhaps that's why he keeps looking outside his smith, hoping to see her passing by outside. She carried several bags with her, so it's reasonable to guess she was moving into the city. Now, he wasn't sure why on earth anyone would do that, but that was all well and good. He'd get to know her, and perhaps be thankful she came to live here.

After the crowds from the coronation parade die down, Darin stops his work for a moment to stick his head outside and risk a quick glance to see if she might be anywhere around. He'd like the chance to introduce himself. Never mind that he isn't one to step up and introduce himself; kindness and gentleness were hard to come by these days, and he had every intention of getting to know the young woman who'd shown both those qualities inside the space of five minutes.

And not only that, she'd seemed as annoyed by the crowds as he was. It'd been a long while since he'd found a kindred spirit with regards to that.

'Back to work, Darin,' he scolds himself. The girl would have to wait; he has a lot of work to finish before sundown, a fact the commotion of the parade did nothing to help.

So he returns to work, but when he pounds away at the red-hot metal, he finds he isn't concentrating quite as well as usual. Stopping to wipe his forehead after finishing a horseshoe, Darin promises himself he'll meet that girl within the week.

With a satisfied nod, he clears his head from its unusually cluttered thoughts and returns to smithing, his concentration no longer suffering quite so badly.

A week comes and goes, with only one sign of that girl, that kind young woman. She passes by his shop, apparently in a bit of a hurry, and he can't bring himself to dart outside to introduce himself. He has no idea how to do that without seeming a fool and consequently annoying her. First impressions are important, and the last thing he wants is to botch his. No need to make things harder for himself; she seemed to be a private sort of person anyhow, and getting to know her might prove a challenge.

Another week passes, and still Darin can't find the right time to say hello. She's always bustling by, but after the third time she hustles past his shop door, he notices how gracefully she manages to hurry along, arms soft and steps nearly silent. He watches for her a bit more diligently after that.

Another week, and then another, and still no good time arises. Darin grows impatient with himself, but his good sense overrides his annoyance. 'First impressions are very important,' he reminds himself. He has to make a good one. And more importantly, he wants to.

A little after a month, Darin comes across the girl for the first time outside the shop. A smaller girl no older than twelve tries to sing a popular ditty, though sadly more than a few notes off pitch. Darin starts to chuckle to himself and moves to continue on home, now that the sun's set, but nearly silent footsteps keep him from hurrying along quite so quickly.

"Do you like to sing?"

Ah, so that's what her voice sounds like. It's a bit lower in pitch than he'd thought it might be, but Darin finds that he doesn't mind that at all. Her voice is pleasing to his ears nonetheless.

"Very much!" the twelve-year-old girl chirps, face alight with a child's enthusiasm.

"May I sing with you?" the young woman asks as she kneels next to the short girl.

"Oh would you? I can't seem to get the tune right, even though my momma tried to teach me. My big brother says I'm a lost cause, but I want to prove him wrong!"

From his place across the street, Darin sees a line form on the young woman's forehead as her eyebrows press together. A sore subject, the topic of big brothers? He'll be sure to avoid it.

"You're very right to do so. What's your name?"

"Nina. And who are you?"

"Rose."

"Like the flower?"

The young woman, Rose, laughs a little and nods sheepishly. Why sheepishly?

"I suppose so, yes. Though I believe my mother wasn't thinking of flowers when I was born."

"What was she thinking of then?" Nina questions, her curly-haired head tipping sideways.

Rose stiffens; he can see her spine go rigid. Another sore spot? Perhaps better to avoid the topic of her family altogether, when he finally gets up the nerve to talk to her.

"Can you sing once for me, Nina, so I can learn the tune?"

Yes, definitely better to avoid talking of her family.

But Nina doesn't seem to notice the quick shift, and begins singing the ditty again, though with a happier face than before. It comes out a bit better as well, perhaps because she isn't trying so hard this time; she is simply enjoying it.

Once the girl finishes, Rose smiles warmly.

"That was beautiful."

"It wasn't off-tune?"

"Only a few notes, and we can fix that easily. You're really quite close."

Darin's smile threatens to break its way onto his face when Rose sings the ditty, in a quiet voice as clear as a cloudless sky. Her voice lacks volume perhaps, but it is so very like her: pure and simple and beautiful.

"You sing so pretty!" Nina exclaims as soon as Rose finishes.

He couldn't agree more.

Rose's shoulders jump up an inch and her head sinks into her neck.

"Let's sing it together, shall we? I think it'd sound better with you singing with me."

Nina practically fluffs up with pride and slips easily into the first verse, surprisingly on key. Rose joins her for the second line, correcting a slight slip. Nina's voice seems to almost overpower Rose's, but perhaps Rose is purposely singing quietly.

The ditty swells in its final notes, and Darin suddenly realizes he's been standing there on the side of the street staring the entire time. What a miracle she hasn't noticed! Embarrassed at himself, Darin tries to shuffle along, but his eyes can't leave the scene of Nina and Rose.

"Once more, Rose? I think I still can't quite get that second line."

Rose smiles and quietly starts the ditty again, as Darin tries to mentally smack some sense into himself. He can't stand there and stare; it's not his place! And yet when the two start singing again and Rose's kindness shines once more, he can't help but stay to watch and listen.

This time, Nina finishes every last note on pitch, and both girl and young woman are beaming with pride when the ditty finishes a second time.

"Perfect," Rose praises.

Once again, Nina fluffs up, eyes sparkling almost as brightly as Rose's.

"Thank you, Rose!"

"No, thank you! I was wishing for someone to sing with only just this morning," says Rose.

Where was this young woman from, to have learned to be so…Darin runs out of words. Suddenly he really wishes he'd paid a bit more attention back in the one year of schooling he had. A few synonyms would be quite appreciated right now.

The two exchange a few more words, and then Rose stands and goes on her way, rushing slightly as usual. Just as Darin returns to himself and shifts to continue on his own way, he notices the subtle movement of her arms. After a moment of paying attention, he realizes she's dancing. At least, her arms are. Does she love to dance too?

Then and there, Darin promises himself he'll be sure he's introduced himself before the faire in a month's time. He'll have to be sure and dance with her. Something tells him she can dance as well as she can sing. His own dancing is out of practice, but he can review. The crowds there will be worth a dance with Rose. He can hardly wait.

Less than a week later, Darin hears the first whispers about her. They manage to confuse him and anger him at once.

The first was innocent enough, just a young woman he didn't know whispering to one of her peers about the new girl in the city who kept to herself, and wasn't that odd? The second came a few days later, and was considerably less friendly. Two older matrons whispered with their husbands about the strange young woman who was always slipping away out of the city, and wasn't that suspicious? The third came from a group of girls about Rose's age about how she was always sneaking off in the dead of the night, and wasn't that frightening? What could she be up to, out there beyond the city walls? One suggested a beau, and Darin almost cursed aloud. His selfish side dearly hoped not. Another suggested she was meeting someone less than savory, and another suggested she was selling her body. Both made his blood run too hot and angry in his veins. Rose would never. They were only envious of her goodness…weren't they?

A week goes by, and the whispers get worse. The topic of her sneaking off is a constant theme, and Darin has to try very hard indeed to keep from snapping at the gossip-hens gobbling about a young woman they barely know. He takes on a tendency to subtly criticize the gossips as it is, but he doesn't want to be unkind to them. Rose wouldn't like that, and he does want to impress her. Even if he still has yet to formally meet her.

Still, he starts looking a bit more closely when she sweeps past his shop when the sun is setting, or even when it is long set and waiting to rise again in a few hours' time. He hates his slight suspicion, when he's almost certain every whisper is exaggerated and mean-spirited. But he still has yet to meet her, and he's been deceived enough in his lifetime that he can't completely ignore the rumors. Caution is a hard lesson, one he's learned plenty of. Until he meets her, he can't distrust her, but he can't completely put all his faith in her either. The possibility that the latter might be a horrible mistake is present enough that he pays attention to it.

As he starts to observe Rose a bit more, he begins to notice details about her that only made his dilemma more difficult. She walks ever-so-slightly on the balls of her feet, her heels just a few hairs from the ground for it to be noticeable if he really looks closely. Her elbows are always soft, never bent at sharp angles. Her hands, while not the most slender he's seen, always have soft angles as well. When her fingers curl, they curl into round arcs, never the sharp right angles of a fist. Her wrists follow suit, and often seem to pulse slightly, as if in a perpetual state of dance. Her posture is almost always impeccable, though her shoulders are a bit more rounded forward than the average person's. Perhaps that comes from a good deal of dancing, but as Darin is no dancer himself, he can't be sure.

And her face, well, he simply doesn't know what to make of it. It should look entirely readable and honest like the rest of her, but he can't deny that it always seems to be a mask. Her facial expressions are rare and always carefully guarded, the only exception being when she interacts with children. She seems to have a fondness for young ones, but only the ones in need of cheering. She seems to only initiate interactions with the solitary ones. He isn't entirely sure what to make of that either.

And yet, he wants to know her. If not for curiosity's sake, than simply to understand why she is so guarded. Reservation is another quality sometimes lacking in young women, at least the ones of the city. Darin is a little unsure as to why he's taken such an interest in the new young woman, but he isn't inclined to fight it, so he lets it stay.

But he really does need to introduce himself. If only she could stop hurrying so much; perhaps then he might be more confident about approaching her. He isn't sure what she'd do if he interrupted her while she's on her way to something important, which she almost always seems to be. He knows she is kind, but he has no way of knowing how secretly annoyed she'd be. He seriously doubts that she'd let him see her annoyance, but he's rather certain it'd be there. He himself gets very put out when someone interrupts him if he's in the middle of something, that's for sure. He doesn't know someone who isn't that way, to be exact.

And perhaps a smaller, quieter, less trusting side of him is insisting that maybe he doesn't want to get to know her after all. Where do the rumors come from, anyhow? Darin has to remind his subconscious time and again that rumors are just that: rumors. Not things to be believed, but things to be ignored at almost all costs.

How can someone who seems so caring possibly be involved in anything unscrupulous? But since he doesn't know her, a fact he can blame himself for, how can he judge for sure?

Perhaps if he could just get up the nerve to speak to her, she'd prove herself to be the exact opposite of what the whispering hens thought her to be. He wants very much to be sure, but he simply can't be. Blind trust is not his forte, and he has very little reason to wish it to be, after all.

He needs to meet her.

He needs to simply find a way to introduce himself. Yes, he needs to do that.

One day, Darin decides to gather his nerve and just do it. How difficult could it be, after all? She is a gentle soul, and he can be almost entirely certain she'd never run off. Unless he makes a complete imbecile of himself, that is. Shaking his head to clear it, Darin just hurries to finish the smithing.

Finally, he's done with that piece, and he closes his workshop a bit early. She walks past often now, and in a few minutes she's likely to come walking along as usual.

As his luck would have it, today just has to be one of the few days she doesn't come along. He waits and idles on both sides of the street, but she never shows. Of course, the day he finally gets his courage, that would be the day she doesn't walk past here.

But he promised himself he'd say hello today, and he means to keep that promise, even if it was only to himself. Perhaps that's why his feet take him toward the spinning workshop. He'd heard somewhere that she worked as a wool carder, and luckily for him, he knew she could only work for Sima. The other wool shop is on the other side of the city, and it's clear she lives in this section.

He finds the place easily, and he's just walking past a window when he catches a glimpse of her and another young woman a bit older sitting down at a spinning wheel. Rose seems to be learning how to spin, and Darin can't help but smile at how she sits: the weight of her legs resting on the tips of her toes, knees bent subtly, back straight even in its slightly slouched position. Her eyes follow her teacher's movements, but her hands fiddle mindlessly with a small bundle of carded wool, the tips of her fingers tugging it apart only for her thumbs to bunch it together again. He knows now isn't the time to say hello, but he smiles the entire walk home. She keeps surprising him, somehow.

But a few days later when she appears at his shop door, he almost drops the red beginnings of a sword he's holding so tightly in the tongs.

"Hello?" she calls, voice and step both tentative.

Darin bites the inside of his cheek to keep his surprise in check and reminds himself to keep his face neutral as he sets the sword down in the fire to heat a bit more and turns to face her fully, hoping that she doesn't notice how cluttered his shop is, with horseshoes and hammers and swords and spearheads littering the worktables.

"Is there something I can help you with…?"

"Rosamar," she supplies. "And yes, I hope so. You have small knives, yes?"

"Knives? Or daggers?"

She looks confused for a moment, but she hides it well.

"A dagger would be better, I suppose. And you are?"

"You'd like the name of a blacksmith?" He has no idea why he says that. Would she have asked if she didn't want to know?

"I asked for it, didn't I?"

He's grateful for the shadows that hide his reddening ears.

"Darin."

"Pleasure to meet you," she says simply. If she's ill at ease, she doesn't let him see it.

"Pleasure's all mine. So it's a dagger you'd like then?"

"A lightweight one, please. I'm afraid my arms aren't very strong."

He bites back the urge to joke that her shoulders must be from all her carding and dancing.

"It should be finished in a few days' time. Shall I deliver it to you?"

"Oh no need, I can pick it up," she answers, a bit quickly.

He nods once and wonders why on earth he can't come up with anything to say.

"Thank you." With those simple two words, Rose tips her head down in a goodbye and walks out into the street.

In the midst of his swirling thoughts, he wonders.

'What on earth does she need a dagger for?'

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><p><strong>sarahwood - I'm glad you enjoyed reading it! Nico was one of my favorite moments to write, simply because it was one of those scenes I could really visualize in my head. As for Caspian and Rose, well, stay tuned because that's coming up rather soon! Thanks for the great feedback!<strong>

**Review!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Once more, the positive feedback for this makes my day! Huge thank you's to ****wildhorses1492 and sarahwood for reviewing! As usual, if I can't reply to your review via PM I'll reply at the bottom of the chapter!**

**After this chapter we go back to Rose's POV, so if you missed her look you can smile now!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**(Caspian POV)**

Aslan may have thought Caspian ready to be king, but at this particular moment, Caspian was feeling very much _un_kingly and quite overwhelmed indeed. Cooperation seemed to be a commodity his attempts at diplomacy couldn't buy, and King Caspian X was almost at his wit's end. Even with the guidance of Trumpkin, Glenstorm, and a few trusted Telmarine advisors, he couldn't seem to make things work.

And today, Caspian X wants nothing more than to get away for a little while. He would very much like to ride off into the woods with Destrier and take a good few days off, but he knows that's simply out of the question. However, Glenstorm did manage to secure him a few hours, and he plans to take full advantage of them.

His state of mind isn't improved when thoughts of his uncle and father flood his overtaxed brain the very second he steps outside of his study.

Caspian briefly mulls over taking the liberty to tear down the hallway at the fastest sprint his body can manage, but after understanding how strange that would seem, he forces his steps to become measured and even. He keeps his head up, as he's grown accustomed to doing as king. Especially in council, he's found it to be very important that he give off a commanding aire – at least, as commanding as he can manage. Such a thing doesn't come very naturally to him in the midst of all his doubts.

What would his father think of his rule thus far? Would he be proud of his son for trying to unite the remaining Telmarines and the Narnians? Or disappointed in his son's nearly constant self-doubt?

Thanks to his uncle, he'll never know. Somehow, this bothers him even more than his struggling attempts at forging a sort of peace between the Narnians and Telmarines who had decided to stay in Narnia. One would think all or most of the disagreeable sorts would have left for the island Aslan offered, but a fair number of them remained. Caspian can only figure that the unknown of a world they couldn't see was more repugnant to them than living with his rule. Or perhaps they were sure he could be pawned about and bent to their whims. What on earth would his father have done with them?

He barely remembers Caspian IX, and maybe that's why he wonders so much what his father'd have thought of him.

And these thoughts were doing nothing to help him relax, which he was under strict orders to do from Glenstorm. For the next few hours, at least. So the troubled king breathes out his stormy thoughts and keeps his head clear for the rest of the walk to the stables.

Word must have traveled there about his few hours, as Destrier stands saddled and waiting when he walks into the stables. Caspian nods his thanks to the stable boy holding the reins, swings himself into the saddle, and takes off at a fast canter. If it weren't daytime, he could break into a gallop, but the city will be crowded, and he can't chance running over an unfortunate civilian. That just might put a bit of a further dent in his rule, young as it is.

So Caspian has no choice but to settle for a trot when he enters the city, and he tries not to let his impatience show on his face. He saves his smiles, and gives them away in gratitude when people dart out of his way, bowing as they do. It's still strange to be bowed to so much, but he's getting more accustomed to it. They bowed less when he was only a prince with an uncle they feared more.

That only turns his thoughts back to his uncle, his face darkening as he remembers Miraz's subtle confession to killing his father. Caspian's blood boils at that. Was the man so much a coward he had to kill his brother while he was asleep? To ensure he couldn't fight back?

Caspian's lips curl toward his teeth, and try as he might to let go of his hate, he simply can't, not with the memory of Miraz saying 'That was more or less true' when his aunt said she thought Caspian IX died in his sleep. He's so focused on his raging heart that he almost doesn't see the young woman in the street until too late.

Luckily Destrier dodges to the side to avoid her, and Caspian only just sees her dart to the side just in time. He's tempted to ride on as if it didn't happen, but she stumbles in her haste to get out of the way, and his conscience tugs at him. So he pulls Destrier to a halt and leaps off to apologize.

"I apologize my lady, I didn't see you in time," he rushes to say, only half paying attention to his words.

"Yes, so I gath- oh! Your Majesty! I'm sorry." Whatever she was going to say, she stops short when she looks up from brushing herself off and sees his face.

"No need," he answers shortly. He barely looks at her; not out of disrespect, but out of distraction.

"I won't keep you, in any case. A safe ride to you, Majesty."

Her voice, somehow firm in its deference, momentarily puts his distraction at bay. The flustered king stops for a moment and looks her in the eye for the first time.

Her face isn't overly pretty; it's quite plain, actually. There's nothing technically extraordinary about her, yet he looks for a moment longer than he perhaps should. For a second, he can't understand why. Then he realizes.

She has an honest face. A reserved face, a face with many secrets, but an honest one nonetheless. And she seems to understand him a bit more than he'd expect, just from looking at him. That sort of thing is new to him. And it keeps his eyes on hers for longer than they should be. Only when she colors slightly and looks to the side does he realize he was, in fact, staring.

"Thank you…?" He hopes she'll understand that he wants her name.

"Rosamar, Majesty."

He smiles at the unusual name and mounts Destrier again, still smiling.

"Caspian."

With that, he spurs on his loyal horse, his smile still spread on his face.

He finds her to be on his mind for a little longer than he thought she'd be as he rides over the bridge and toward the woods. Then he realizes: he's seen her eyes before.

As Destrier crashes through the trees, he thinks hard and tries to remember. He knows he's seen her before.

After a few long minutes of thinking and thinking and thinking some more, it hits him. She was there at the Battle of Beruna. He saw her eyes peeking out from behind a tree.

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><p><strong>(Battle of Beruna)<strong>

The river god brings the crumbling bridge to his face and breaks it into splintered logs as he splashes back down into the river, disappearing with ease back into the water. For long moments, Caspian simply stares as the water foams and crashes and eventually evens back out to its original state, the river god's passage marked only by floating pieces of the destroyed bridge, discarded Telmarine war masks, and a bit more white foam capping the waves in the water.

Peter, Susan, and Edmund all start forward to ford the now calm river, and Caspian takes a large step forward to keep in step, his awe still very much slowing his senses. Professor never mentioned the river god in the Old Tales. The prince very much wishes he had, but perhaps the surprise of it is just as sweet as knowledge would have been.

The water swirls around his battle-wearied legs, slowing his movements even more. Luckily for Caspian, it slows the King and Queen as well; the Gentle Queen especially. Her long skirt drags to the side, but she tries to keep her struggle discreet. Still, he notices, and subtly offers his forearm for support. Susan takes a moment to decide, and he keeps his face neutral. But she does take his arm, just long enough to get through the strongest part of the current. Caspian keeps his smile to himself. No need to advertise his slight infatuation with the Gentle Queen too much, with the aftermath of the battle to sort out.

Finally, or perhaps a bit too quickly, the four reach the other side of the river. The Great Lion Aslan sits regally, regarding them each with a warm and loving smile. They drop to their knees in respect, heads bowed.

"Rise, Kings and Queens of Narnia," says the Lion.

Caspian keeps his eyes on the pebbles under his knees and stays put. He's only a prince, and a Telmarine prince at that.

"All of you," Aslan says, a bit gentler.

The prince's brow furrows slightly as his eyes rise to meet the Lion's, mouth parted in surprise.

"I do not think I am ready," he quietly replies, eyes returning to the ground.

"It's for that very reason," Aslan says, "I know you are."

Caspian's eyes leave the ground once more, surprise and gratitude written in their depths as they meet the Lion's. Upon seeing Aslan's smile, he rises, hesitant and humble. His eyes flit from the ground and up again, and then to the Kings and Queens on either side of him. All of them fix him with welcoming smiles, and Caspian smiles a bit at the very new feeling of acceptance.

However, when he looks straight ahead again, he notices something out of the ordinary. There, peeking out from behind a tree a little ways behind the Valiant Queen and the Lion, are two Telmarine-looking brown eyes. A soft breeze blows a bit of wavy black hair out from behind the tree trunk, and Caspian wonders absently if this girl is from Beruna. But if she's Telmarine…why is there no fear in her eyes? Why is there only awe and hopeful wonder?

But then the eyes notice his steady gaze, and they quickly disappear behind the tree. And Caspian's attention quickly snaps back to the present scene at the dismal sound of a funeral song.

Peter and Caspian both step to the side to let the band of mice carrying a dying Reepicheep through. Lucy rushes forward with her cordial and drops a single drop into the mouse's open mouth, face drawn with worry. The Valiant Queen never ceases to impress with her deep compassion for all.

But the worry lines on everyone's faces transform into smiles when Reepicheep draws in a deep breath and sits up, healed and alive.

"Oh! Thank you," gasps the mouse, "Your Majesty. Thank you."

But not completely healed; Lucy smiles at her siblings and Caspian, who return the smile when they see a very important part of the mouse is missing.

"Oh! Hail, Aslan! It is a great honor to be in-" Reepicheep abruptly stops his speech when he pitches forward and almost lands on his face while attempting a bow. Several gasps of surprise and shock later, the mouse blinks bashfully and attempts to cover the stump where his tail ought to have been with front paws entirely too short to reach his backside.

"I-I am completely out of countenance," Reep stutters. "I must crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion."

The four Kings and Queen behind the poor mouse trade looks of mixed pity and slight amusement as Reepicheep looks to Lucy.

"Um, perhaps, a drop more?"

"I don't think it does that," Lucy answers sadly.

"You could have a go," the worried mouse suggests.

All eyes turn to Aslan when the Lion lets out a rumbling chuckle, golden eyes shining with fondness.

"It becomes you well, small one."

"All the same, Great King," Reepicheep begins, drawing his sword, "I regret that I must withdraw, for a tail is the honor and glory of a mouse." The mouse pads forward and presents the blade to the Lion in open paws, but Aslan makes no move to accept the offering.

"Perhaps you think too much of your honor, friend."

"Well i-it's not just the honor. I-It's also great for balance." The Kings and Queens begin to smile, but Reep doesn't notice. "And climbing. A-and grabbing things," he continues, oblivious to the amused smiles behind him.

The amusement quiets when the sound of six other tiny swords bring drawn from their scabbards rings through the air.

"May it please Your High Majesty," says Peepiceep. "We will not bear the shame of wearing an honor denied to our chief." With that, the six mice hold their swords to their tails as Reepicheep turns to regard them all with surprise. For Caspian's part, the loyalty of these mice to their leader touches him and makes him hope he will be so lucky in his reign to have friends such as that.

"Not for the sake of your dignity, but for the love of your people," Aslan says.

Reepicheep turns to face the Lion once more, thus giving the five Kings and Queens behind him a full-on view as his tail grows back.

Peepiceep gasps, and Reepicheep perks up as the realization dawns on him. The hopeful mouse looks over his back, to see his new tail, immediately letting out a relieved laugh when he sees it there. His joy brings cheery laughs from the Kings and Queens and a wider smile from the Lion.

"Look, look!" Reep exclaims, clutching his new tail and brandishing his sword high in the air. "Thank you, thank you my Liege! I will treasure it always! From this day forward it will serve as a great reminder of my huge humility!"

Caspian laughs heartily along with the Pevensies and the Great Lion, but his eyes return to the tree hiding the owner of the brown eyes from his view. Ah, but there they are again, sparkling with the same amusement and happiness everyone looking on at the scene can express freely with laughter. Those eyes laugh in silence and sweep around to take everything in, stopping to stare in utter awe at the Lion's back. Caspian's eyes remain on the peeking ones, and they don't leave until those brown eyes meet his again, this time disappearing for good into the woods. He sees a lock of black hair dart out from behind the tree trunk as the eyes widen and their owner darts off into the woods.

Caspian returns his attention to the people and creatures around him, but the curiously fearless brown eyes stay in his mind's eye the rest of the afternoon. And when Edmund elbows him and asks if by jove, he's found himself a girl, Caspian tries to brush it off, but the one thing he can't do is stop his ears from turning a bit warm.

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><p>He saw the same eyes amid the crowd in the streets of the city during his coronation procession to the castle he can now call his own. At first, he didn't recognize them. But when they darted away from his gaze, he knew they were the same eyes he saw peeking out from the tree back at Beruna, even if he forgot about both occurrences until now.<p>

And now she lives in the city just outside his castle. Caspian briefly wonders if there might be a way to talk to her, to sate his own curiosity as to her utter lack of fear at Beruna. But just as soon as he thinks it, he realizes it probably isn't possible. He hasn't even the faintest idea where in the city she lives, and some nagging sense of etiquette tells him that going door to door might not be the best plan he's ever had. After all, he is king now, and there are other things to tend to besides his curiosity about one young woman.

Destrier seems to sense his indecision, and picks up speed. The sudden rush of wind in his face helps Caspian X to think more practically. No, he shouldn't seek her out. In any case, it wasn't as if she seemed to be eager to speak to him. She was respectful, and nothing more. Withdrawn, even. Something short of distrustful, but not entirely welcoming either. Maybe that was simply her way, but Caspian didn't think she'd appreciate being sought out. She'd seemed intimidated enough when he stopped to apologize, after she saw who he was that is, even though it was only the polite thing to do, especially to a lady.

'So much for relaxing,' his mind comments ruefully. Caspian sighs in reply. Glenstorm would not approve.

Out of the blue, the restless king suddenly wonders what his father would have thought of her, the young woman with the curious eyes.

Suddenly Caspian isn't so willing to forget about her. Rosamar, that was her name wasn't it? Maybe he ought to ask Professor Cornelius's advice. He always seems to know what's best for him, and his advice has never failed yet. Yes, he would talk to the Professor about seeking out Rosamar.

Even if it was a foolish idea, it might turn out to be something unexpectedly pleasant. Some of the lords had been whispering concerns about his infatuation with the Gentle Queen still having a hold on him; maybe they'd quiet their worrying if he at least attempted to get to know another young woman.

And yet, he was almost sure that Rosamar would not quite be pleased with such a move on his part. She seemed the guarded sort; why would she welcome a troubled king butting his way into her surely busy life? She'd never outright say she didn't appreciate it, naturally, but he had serious doubts she'd wish for his attentions given the choice. Did he even have time to give them, in any case?

No, he has even less time to give them than she has to receive them, this he knows. This day of freedom was a rare day, that he found time to leave the castle. And the only reason he had the time now was because Glenstorm arranged it! No, it was foolish to think he could seek her out and expect either of them to want to explore any sort of friendship. Time and circumstances simply wouldn't permit such an action.

Why did that bother him? He was a King of Narnia! It was his duty, his happy responsibility to sacrifice his wants and desires for his country's needs. What a marvelous job he was doing of acting on that duty now, riding away into the forest when there was work to be done. What kind of a king was he? What would his father think, of his son running from the stresses of ruling for even a few hours?

'Disappointment, that's what,' his mind whispers.

Caspian swallows the knot in his throat and slows Destrier to a trot to safely turn around. He's about to spur his loyal horse into a gallop back toward the castle and his duties awaiting him there, but he notices the horse breathing hard. So he waits a little while. But as soon as Destrier is recovered, he rides back.

He has duties to fulfill.

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><p><strong>sarahwood - That was actually a characteristic of hers I hadn't planned on, but she just sort of acquired it as I wrote. Turned out for the best though, I hope! Ah yes, Darin and Rose and Caspian...we shall see what comes of that little concoction ;)<strong>

**Review!**


	5. Chapter 4

**So I rewatched Prince Caspian the other night. And I am proud to say that I fangirled so dang hard. Am I slightly obsessed? Probably. And I revel in it! :D**

**Okay manic gushing over. On to the story! **

**As I said, if you started to miss Rose's POV, you're in luck because here it is! I won't actually be switching POVs steadily, I've placed them where they seemed to fit the best. **

**Thank you to wildhorses1492 for reviewing!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Hopefully that dagger's ready today. If I'm to be the protector of Tanssi Kuun like Aunt said, I'd best have some sort of weapon. It's been half a week since I visited the blacksmith's, and he did say he'd have it done in a few days.

I hurry up and finish my last basket of wool for today and bid my evening goodbyes to Lilia and Sima, both of whom give me a hug before I leave.

"Until tomorrow, Rose," Lilia says.

"Bright and early," I answer, as is our ritual.

We share a brief smile before I tug on my cloak and step out into the street. The walk to the blacksmith's proves as short as I remember, and I almost hum in contentment as the warmth from the smithing fire wraps around my chilled form. Though it's getting to be spring now, the nights are still rather cold.

"Ah, welcome back Rosamar. Your dagger, as promised."

The blacksmith, Darin, greets me with a friendly smile and eyes dancing with firelight as he holds out what I can only assume to be my dagger. I can't help but smile as I look it over. Thin blade, engraved with designs so intricate I can barely fathom how or why he made something so beautiful for me. The handle is all earthy colors and leather wrapping to make it comfortable to hold. In so many ways, it's what I've imagined Tanssi Kuun to be like.

"It's exquisite," I murmur, almost without realizing it.

"As is its owner."

"Hm?" I must have heard him wrong; I'm really quite plain, and everyone knows it too.

"Never mind. Here, hold it. It's yours, after all," he says, laying the intricately fashioned weapon in my hand. I can't seem to stop staring at it.

I start to dig out my purse with my free hand, but Darin stops me with a shake of his head.

"Don't worry about that."

Instantly, a spurt of anger runs through me. Does he think I can't afford this?

He must see my anger, because he lifts two hands in a placating gesture.

Still, I keep my piece and don't say anything. I merely nod and murmur a quick 'thank you' before turning to go.

"Wait!"

I purse my lips into a thin line, but I wait.

"Do you plan to attend the faire tomorrow?"

"I hate crowds," I answer simply. Why would he ask that, anyhow?

"As do I. However, perhaps I might see you there?"

"If you like."

I'm so certain he's only joking that it takes me a moment to process his reply.

"Yes, I would like that. I'm a hopeless dancer, you see, and perhaps you could teach me?"

"Maybe I'm rubbish at dancing too," I challenge, turning sideways to regard him carefully. What is he playing at?

"I doubt it."

"And what makes you so sure?"

Darin shrugs and pulls a red-hot piece of metal from the fire.

"Intuition," is all he says before he starts to hammer away at his new project.

My lips press into a thinner line, but I can't say I'm not tempted. It might be nice to dance with someone my height rather than the odd child here and there.

"Alright then."

His hammering stops instantly and he turns to face me slowly.

"What?"

"Well, you asked," I say with a shrug.

He stares at me for a few long, uncomfortable moments before a boyish grin breaks out on his face.

"Until tomorrow then, Rosamar," he replies, still smiling at me.

I tip my head slightly to the side in confusion, but I nod my affirmation.

"Until tomorrow," I echo, turning to go. I just catch the sight of his grin spreading into a giddy smile before I disappear out the door.

The very moment I'm outside, I almost hit myself in the forehead. Yes, that's a brilliant idea. Go to the faire, Rose, and teach a young man you met only days ago to dance. That's just the smartest idea I've had in a while. I can't wait to see what other grand ideas I act on tomorrow night.

Rolling my eyes at my inner dialogue, I tap the side of my head with two fingers to clear it and hustle down the street and towards the bridge. Time to try and find my entry tree…again.

At that thought, I have to fight back a sigh of frustration. It's been over a year since Aunt gave me this pendant, the one still hanging from my neck, and still I've yet to find my way into Tanssi Kuun. What if something's happened while I've wandered around uselessly looking for it? Am I just looking in the wrong place? But I searched every single tree near Beruna, and I had no luck, and I've searched only half of the trees within walking distance here. I wish Aunt could have given me some sort of clue as to what it might look like, other than that it has an engraving on its trunk matching the pendant.

More thoughts I try to force down come bubbling up as I start across the bridge.

'What if Tanssi Kuun is deliberately hiding itself from me?'

'What if I'm not fit to be its protector?'

'What if-'

"No, stop," I order myself in a stern whisper. I can't afford to indulge in my self-doubt, not while I have to concentrate all my energy on finding my entry tree.

In response to my urgent thought, I walk a bit faster and search a bit more determinedly than before when I finally get to the woods.

Hours pass, and soon the moon is high in the sky. I go deeper and deeper in, hoping that maybe it's just hidden deep in the forest and if I just go deep enough, maybe I'll stumble across it.

But I have no luck; I've learned this the hard way.

By the time the sky turns to grey, I've had enough.

"Where are you?!" I suddenly scream, vaguely aware of a trail of something warm and wet running down my cheek.

Silence greets my desperation.

"How can I protect you if I don't know where you are? Please, just _stop hiding_!" My voice sounds so foreign to my ears. It's been years since I raised it above its normal volume.

More silence.

"PLEASE!"

Somehow, I find myself on my knees, and then on my hands too, leaning over the forest floor, defeated.

"I know I'm nothing, I know I'm not very good at protecting. But I could learn, don't you see? I _want_ to learn!" I pause to choke on a particularly violent cry.

"Aunt charged me with protecting you, don't you understand?! She thought I could do it! Just let me try, _please_!"

I'm greeted with nothing more than a gradual lightening of the sky.

"I know I may need you more than you need me, but please, just one chance!"

I don't know if I get an answer, because my face hits the leaves before I can look around.

I really hate crying. It makes me feel so weak. And yet here I am, bawling like an infant for milk. What am I?!

'A wonderful protector, to be sure,' mocks the sarcastic doubt in my head.

I take a deep and shaky breath. This isn't what a protector does. A protector isn't weak. How can I hope to be what Tanssi Kuun needs if I can't even control my own emotions?

With that, I swallow every last tear and push myself upright with infuriatingly shaky hands.

"S-stop it," I order. There's no bite to it.

"Stop!" There, much better. My shaking ceases, and I pull myself to my feet. I brush myself off and wipe the streaks of dirt and leaves from my face. No need for any of that. A protector is strong; a protector doesn't cry. A protector doesn't _need_ to cry.

I straighten my neck and hold my head up as high as I can. No more of this; I can find Tanssi Kuun, I _will_ find Tanssi Kuun, and I'm going to be patient and just keep searching until I do. And that's all there is to it.

Suddenly, I realize how close dawn is. I've got barely over an hour to be back at the workshop. I don't want to have to come up with an excuse for being late, especially since Sima sees through any and all excuses. So I'd best get myself in gear and get my sorry rear end back to the workshop. And maybe I'd better banish the tired lines from my face as best I can while I'm at it. Lilia worried for a week last time she found out I didn't sleep at all one night.

I rush myself back to the city, and I skid into the workshop just as Sima opens her mouth to call for me.

"Ah, just in time Rose, child! I was about to call for you."

"So it seemed," I answer mildly as I scurry over to my little carding stool and take my first of many handfuls of wool for today's work.

"Why, Rose, you look worn as a rag. What's the matter?"

I groan inwardly at my failure to wipe the last traces of exhaustion from my face.

"Just a long night, Lilia. That's all."

It doesn't take a genius to tell that neither Lilia nor Sima are convinced, but they're kind enough to not ask me anything further. I sit down and work tirelessly the rest of the day, wishing that I wasn't so used to carding as I am now. The ache in my shoulders would actually be very welcome now; it'd keep my mind singularly focused on the work at hand. As it is, it keeps straying back to my doubts and worries.

'Get a hold of yourself, Rose,' I scold myself. Honestly, do I want the whole city to know my troubles? If they can even be called that. Others go through so much more every day! At least I can say I have food on my table and a roof over my head. That's more than some. Who am I to complain about not being able to find a secret world? I'm lucky to even know of its existence!

Before I even know it, the sun's setting again, and I've carded today's wool all three necessary times.

"Well child, I know you're feeling under the weather, but you do work so well when you're stressed," Sima comments off-handedly as I clean my work station and hand over today's wool.

"Thank you." There was a time I wouldn't have been sure if that was a compliment or not, but now I know Sima well enough to know that yes, it is a compliment.

"Shall we get ready for the faire, Rose?"

I turn to look at Lilia curiously.

"How did you know I was going to go?"

She doesn't answer for a moment, just looks at me with a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

"I didn't. Until you just confessed, that is."

I almost groan.

"That never ceases to fool me," I grumble.

"And I sincerely hope it never will," she laughs as we wave goodbye to Sima and walk toward our homes, arm in arm.

"You just enjoy getting a rise out of me, that's all."

"Oh no, not at all! I don't think even the King of Narnia could get a rise out of you, Rose. You're very reserved. I just like messing with you."

"Well, thank you. I'll take it as a compliment."

"You're welcome," she says simply, steering me toward her hut with it's door that's splintering around the knob.

"Er, Lilia? I've got to get ready," I remind her, gently trying to extricate my arm from her grip.

"We can get ready together," she chirps back.

"You sound like a bird," I mutter. She really did, too.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she fires back, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Now you're just making fun of me."

"No, just messing with you. You know how mischievous I get."

"I'm afraid I do," I sigh. "Come on then, let's get ready."

And get ready we do. Her home is almost exactly the same as mine; same furniture, same wear and tear rounding the table corners and same creaky bedsprings and same soot-covered fireplace. It's not so different from getting dressed at my own home, but for Lilia's extra beauty supplies. I've never felt the need to dust the pink powder on my cheeks myself, but tonight, apparently, it's a necessity. I really didn't expect to be done up quite as much as she insists on. Lilia even pulls half my hair back into some intricate sort of braid I could never hope to figure out, not in a millennia.

"Why are we getting to dressed up?" I wonder aloud.

"It's the faire! THE faire! Everyone dresses up," she answers as she begins work on her own hair, now that mine's finished with a lavender wildflower tucked behind my ear.

"What is it, exactly?"

"Well, think of it like a celebration of all the work we all do, day in and day out. Everyone just takes an evening to dance and maybe even buy something other than necessities, if they're lucky."

"Dancing?" So that's why Darin talked about me teaching him to dance. Though I still have no idea why he's so sure I know how. I do, I love to dance, but how would he guess that?

"And music, too. Some of the prettiest music you'll ever hear. And this year is likely to be one of the best. We'll have Narnian music as well as Telmarine, you know!"

"One of the many good things of having King Caspian X on the throne," I comment.

"Indeed. Though I think most of the female gender are far more interested in the bonuses of being his queen than the good things his rule may bring," Lilia laughs knowingly.

I know exactly what she means; barely a day can go by without at least one girl mentioning how handsome/brave/dashing/desirable/courteous/etc. he is. Though after he stopped to apologize after almost running me over yesterday, I think I understand the 'courteous' ravings.

Why did he stare at me? He almost looked as if he recognized me, but that's so impossible I could laugh at my own foolishness. That was a long time ago, and we never even spoke.

"Hello? Rose?"

I start back to the present when Lilia snaps her fingers inches from my eyes.

"Sorry, just lost in thought."

"About King Caspian?" she teases.

"He apologized for almost running me over, that's all. I just found it odd."

"I beg your pardon?"

"What?"

"You never told me you met the king!"

"I didn't, not really. In any case, it really wasn't anything special."

"Well, still, humor me?" Lilia looks so eager I can't refuse her, even if I'm silently thinking she doesn't need quite so much black lining her eyes.

"I was walking down the street, and he came tearing down toward me. I leaped to the side just in time, but he still halted his horse and apologized for almost running me over."

"A very thoughtful thing to do," she muses.

"Odd, wasn't it?" I murmur, as much to myself as to Lilia.

"It was only the polite thing."

I nod, satisfied. I'm still getting used to the different etiquette here in the city, even though I've been here many months now. People are nicer here than they were in Beruna. They still have their faults, but as a whole they are a bit kinder.

"He must be stressed."

"Wouldn't you be if you had to unite a country?"

"We all would, I think," I laugh.

She nods, and I wait in patience until she finishes. I'm as ready as I'll be, and I see no need to add some of that dark stuff to my eyes. It's bad enough Lilia got a pink lip stain on me.

Once she's done, I move to walk outside, but she stops me with a hand on my arm.

"Rose, are you certain you're alright? You seem very tired more and more. Sometimes I've gone to check on you at night, and some nights you're not there."

"I'm alright, Lilia, really," I insist as I slip my arm free.

"Where do you go at night? And why is there a dagger in your room now? I'm worried about you, as a friend. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"I'm alright!" I insist firmly. "I got that dagger because I remembered my parents warned me to keep some sort of weapon around, just in case."

I hate lying, but I'll do anything to protect Tanssi Kuun.

Lilia fixes me with a piercing stare for a moment, but I stay steady and meet her gaze. To my satisfaction, she nods after a few moments.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume. I was just worried about you."

"I know. It's alright, you're forgiven," I answer mildly as we link arms again and head out.

"Well that's certainly a relief. But honestly, would you think it prying if I asked where you go some nights?"

"I love to dance, but I'm rather self-conscious. I like dancing at night, because people can't see then." It's half-true, after all. The half-truth rolls off my tongue a lot easier than the lie about my dagger did.

"Ah, I understand."

I almost sigh in relief, but I manage to hold it in. I've got a good amount of practice holding things in, thank goodness.

A brief silence follows before Lilia brings up something entirely uncomfortable for me as we finally leave her hut and start off down the street toward the city square.

"So. The faire." Could the mischief in her voice _be_ more obvious?

"What about it?" I ask carefully. I make a point to look down at the uneven cobblestones under my feet as if I'm afraid of tripping.

"What made you decide to go?"

Oh no.

"Well…I…um…er…"

"Stunning vocabulary Rose, really."

I roll my eyes and pray I can distract her. But I've not the slightest idea _how_.

"Thank you too much. I practice all day, you know."

"I'm sure you do. Is it a boy?"

"Well if you want the truth, he's a bit older than 'boy'," I grumble, eyes still on the ground even as I silently curse the warmth prickling at my cheeks..

"I knew it!"

"Congratulations." Heavens forgive my insincere humor.

"Who?"

"Careful Lilia I'd like to keep this arm. I might need it later," I say as I wriggle my arm in her now deathly tight grip. She was the one to insist on this dress, after all. I think she'd like to keep her own dress from being wrinkled. It even matches the flower she put in my hair.

"Who?!"

I sigh and accept that the sooner I tell her, the sooner she'll leave it lie.

"The blacksmith, Darin."

"Well, it's about time!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's a quiet, reserved one too. It's about time you both got out. And what better way to get out than with someone as equally guarded?" she reasons.

"Thank you for the encouragement, I suppose." Really, I don't see why it's a big deal. He's a young man, and I'm a young woman, and that's all there is. Nothing else complicated, I'm sure of it. Even if there was, I'd have neither the time nor the patience for it.

"You're welcome."

I make a point of not responding when she pokes me in the ribs with a positively devious sparkle in her brown eyes.

Before much longer, we reach the city square, where the faire is already in full swing.

Sure enough, Darin is here. But the bigger surprise is this:

So is the king.

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	6. Chapter 5

**I apologize for the slightly late chapter; I've had to deal with a small personal emergency the past few days. Good news is that I think it's taken care of, so we should be back on schedule for updates!**

**Thank you so much to Writer For God, wildhorses1492, and sarahwood for reviewing, and to all you quiet favoriters/followers/readers out there!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"By the Lion, the king!" Lilia blurts out, eyes surely bugging out of her head. I'd look and see the amusing sight for myself, but I'm far too distracted looking on with equal surprise.

"Er…yes, it would seem so," I offer weakly.

"What a surprise!"

Surprise, indeed!

But thankfully, before we gape too much and make ourselves look like the fools we are, Darin notices our arrival and casually makes his way over, stepping with ease over the uneven and stained cobblestones.

"You came after all," he says as he greets me with a small, playful bow.

"I said I would, didn't I?"

I don't miss Lilia's wink.

"And yet I'm still surprised." At this point, he turns and bows the same small bow to Lilia. "I don't believe we've met. I'm-"

"Darin, I'm guessing?"

I fully ignore her discreet pinch on my arm and swallow my yelp.

"Indeed. And you are?"

"Lilia. Rosamar's partner-in-crime, if you will."

"Crime, you say?"

Would the both of them stop with the twinkling mischief in their eyes?

"Yes, I did," she answers.

"Then perhaps I might steal Rose for a bit? She promised to teach me to dance, you see."

"By all means, steal her away. Only you must promise to bring her back before dawn tomorrow," laughs my traitorous 'partner-in-crime.' I'd pinch her arm in reprimand, but she'd surely give me away and then this whole thing would be even more embarrassing.

"You have my word," Darin laughs in reply as she smirks at him and quickly disappears into the crowd. He offers me his arm, a gesture that earns him a raise of my eyebrow.

"You know I don't like crowds," I say simply.

He opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off, though I shock myself with my audacity to do so.

"And I made no promise to teach you. I simply agreed."

"Is there a difference?" he asks, brown eyes still glittering with mischief. Perhaps he and Lilia ought to 'get together,' as she put it.

"Yes," I answer coolly.

"Then forgive me," he says, immediately bending at the waist again.

"Oh hush and come with me," I snap, surprising myself with the playful undertone in my voice.

He lifts his hands in the same placating gesture he used yesterday.

"Keep using that gesture, Darin, and it just might lose its effectiveness," I warn him. Where on earth is this side of me coming from?

He says nothing, but I can tell he's smiling to himself; his lips are twitching just a bit at the corners.

I lead us to a side street still in view of the crowd, but out of the way of it. I don't want this to look scandalous, but I'm not comfortable around mobs of people either. I wait patiently for the next song to start, and then I move into position.

"Stand here, in front of me."

Darin does as he's told, but he wears the most infuriating little smirk the whole time.

"Now-" I'm abruptly cut off when he reaches forward, takes my hand, and spins me toward him and into a dance.

The little…he does know how to dance!

"You liar!" I spit in the midst of a particularly dizzying spin.

"Pay attention, and you may notice my utter lack of grace," he answers calmly. Still smirking, I might add.

I purse my lips, but I do pay attention. And he's entirely correct.

"Don't clomp around like a cow in shoes ten sizes too big," I fire back. "Dancing isn't meant to be done clodhopping around."

He tries to obey, but doesn't seem to have it in him. I suppose blacksmiths don't have to be graceful very often.

"Dance on eggshells."

I almost snort out a laugh when he slows down far too much for the song to allow and tiptoes around.

"Settle in your body, but stand tall. Does that make sense?"

By his face, it makes about as much sense as telling a horse to lay an egg.

So I stop the dance and have him stand still.

"Feel the ground under your feet. Use it as your support, your base if you will."

He tries, and does a bit better. A few more strange instructions later, he's much lighter on his feet.

"Much better," I finally say, giving him his first dose of praise since we started. He's earned it, even if I'm only admitting it grudgingly.

The beaming smile that comes over his face brings a half-smile to my own.

"I knew you could teach well," he says, almost with a hint of smugness.

"No, you just wanted to get me in this alcove alone. Though why exactly is a question I don't know the answer to just yet."

"Time will tell," he says with a shrug, his ears almost disappearing into his shoulders. This man changes with the wind. One moment he's confident, almost flirty, and the next he's sheepish and unsure.

But I don't have the mental determination to try and reason it out, so I change the subject.

"Well, I do believe you're ready to join the crowd in the dances now." I move to walk away, but he taps my hand as soon as I start to turn.

"Don't you remember I don't like crowds either?"

"Why did you want to learn to dance, then?"

He doesn't answer; he just holds his hand out to me. At first, I'm inclined not to take it, but something in his eye, a hidden sort of gentleness there, changes my mind. So I place my hand in his and even let him lead.

I do enjoy the dance, just a little. Most likely because my arm isn't being pulled from my socket anymore.

"I believe your instruction helped, Rosamar. Thank you," he says, seemingly sincere.

"You're welcome," is my simple answer.

He says nothing more, and I don't either.

The song ends and so does our dance. And the silence, which I was rather enjoying.

"Why did you need a dagger?"

Instantly, I stiffen. Is it really so suspicious for a young woman to want a small weapon? A young woman who lives alone in the middle of a bustling city?

"Protection."

"From…?" he presses on.

"Nothing in particular, I suppose."

"Just protection?"

"Yes." More for a world I haven't yet found than me myself, but no one needs to know that.

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't press me further.

"You seem tired."

I fight back an exasperated sigh. I really need to work on hiding it, if it's so obvious that two people in the same day notice it. Do I have bags under my eyes, or some such nonsense? I'll be supremely annoyed if I actually have to ask Lilia to help me with face powder.

"Long night."

"Is there anything I might do?"

'Shushing up about it, maybe,' I think. Out loud, I say, "I suspect not."

"Try me? For the sake of argument, if nothing else?"

I fight an urge to roll my eyes.

"I was just searching for something. Something I've been looking for for quite a long time."

"Oh?"

Somehow, his one syllable question makes it so very hard to say nothing more. And oh, how I hate that! It takes all I can not to glare death at him, this frustrating blacksmith who's far too curious about things that do not concern him at all.

"Curious?"

"I confess so, yes," he admits shamelessly.

"Stew in it," I mumble, before I can censor myself.

He stares at me for a long moment before bursting out into laughter.

"I'm glad this amuses you," I comment dryly, perching a hand on my hip in spite of my better judgment.

"Forgive me, Rosamar, but it was quite a surprise to hear you say that."

'Such a sincere apology, Darin, really.'

"I'll think about it."

"But honestly, you could tell me if you wanted to."

I do wish he wouldn't look at me quite so earnestly.

"Well, I don't," I reply. Does he enjoy trying my patience so?

"Then why did you mention searching at all?"

"Because you kept pressing me!"

"I did no such thing."

"Yes, yes you did."

His hands go up again in his placating gesture, and it does little to calm me.

"Forgive me."

"As I said, I'll consider it."

"Well, at least that wasn't a 'no'."

I pinch my lips together and look to the side.

"I could help you look, if you like," he suggests, as mildly as he seems to be capable of. It's still infuriating.

"I'm alright, thank you."

Darin regards me almost amusedly.

"I didn't ask if you were alright, I asked if you would like help looking."

"No, you didn't ask at all."

"I _offered_. Is that not close enough?"

"This is ridiculous," I state flatly.

"I quite agree. So would you like the help or no?"

I think it over. No one's offered to help before, and if he doesn't know the significance of what I'm looking for, perhaps it's alright.

Wait, no, no! What if someone were to ask him about the pendant, or an engraving on a tree?!

But I haven't mentioned anything about a pendant or the like, nor do I intend to. It just might be safe enough. And I can't leave that world unprotected for any longer. Much as I'm loathe to admit it, I could definitely use the help.

"Well…I suppose, if you like," I finally say, staring down at the grey stones beneath my feet like they can take back the risk I just took.

"I would like to help, yes. Now, what is it you've been searching for?"

"I need to find an engraving on a tree. It's very unique, but I've been looking for over a year with no luck."

"An engraving, on a tree?"

"Yes, isn't that what I just said?"

"Do you have any idea where this tree might be?"

"I've been going through the entire surrounding forest," I admit. "And gotten lost more than I care to say."

"So that's a no. Any ideas what this tree looks like?"

I stay silent.

"I suppose that's a no as well." He sighs, but he doesn't take back his offer.

"I search at night. Is that a problem?"

"I rarely sleep."

"I'll see you at the bridge in two days then."

"As soon as it's dark?"

I nod simply, and then there's nothing more to say.

"Well Rosamar, shall we return to the festivities?"

"What happened to not liking crowds?"

"We can complain together."

For some reason, that strikes me as amusing, and I let him lead us back to the crowd. As luck would have it, a new song starts just as we enter the madness of swirling skirts and bowing figures.

Darin offers me his hand, and I surprise us both by taking it. However, it turns out this is a more Narnian song, so everyone dances with everyone. So much for complaining together. Oh well.

I spin through so many partners I lose track of how many there are, and just as their faces begin to blur together, I'm suddenly very aware of who I'm dancing with. Painfully aware, to be exact.

"Your Majesty," I greet respectfully, dipping my head down, which is almost more than the dance will allow.

"Rosamar," he replies, smiling a soft kind of smile that has me staring at him in confusion.

"You remembered my name?" I blurt out.

If he notices the utter idiocy of my question, he either doesn't care or doesn't show it. He just keeps smiling, though his smile does get a little wider. Oddly, when we're supposed to change partners, he stays with me. Or is it that the song's changed and I didn't notice?

"Your Majesty, I think-"

"Caspian."

"Beg pardon?"

"You may call me Caspian, if you like."

"You're the king," I say stupidly. What is the matter with me? Of course he's the king!

"So I am," he answers, seemingly amused. With good reason, if you ask me.

"Is it respectful?"

"I don't mind it," he says.

I study him discreetly as he again holds on to me. He seems sincere, but I can't be sure. He's as good at masks as I am, naturally. Politics will do that to a person, I imagine.

"If you like, then."

"I hear 'Your Majesty' and 'My Liege' and the like often enough. I think I'd like to hear my own name more."

A sudden thought strikes me, and I mentally curse myself when it flies from my lips.

"Because it was your father's name too?"

As soon as I ask that, I wish I could take it back and find myself babbling an apology.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I suppose you're right, Rosamar. I simply never realized it before now."

It takes me many, many moments to process that.

"Still, I apologize." Finally, something not entirely ridiculous.

"There's no need for it, I assure you."

Maybe coming from someone else, I'd have some sort of response. But coming from a king? I'm left with nothing even remotely intelligent. So I keep my silly mouth shut the rest of the dance. King Caspian does as well, but he won't cease looking at my eyes.

The song ends, and just as I'm about to either ask him what's so fascinating about my eyes or leave, he speaks up.

"Why were you not afraid?"

"Beg pardon, Your Maj- Caspian?"

"After the Battle of Beruna, you were watching, and I couldn't help but notice your lack of fear. It was so unusual that I couldn't forget it."

Only when amusement flickers in King Caspian's eyes do I realize that my jaw's hanging open. I clap it shut, but I still have quite a time summoning anything coherent to say.

"That was a long time ago…how did you know it was me?"

Of course I remember sneaking around to get a peek of the great lion everyone was whispering about, but I'd almost forgotten that King Caspian, prince back then, had seen me and said nothing. I left for the city the very same day.

"I suppose it was a lucky guess."

I can tell he's leaving something out, but I don't press him. He is still the king, after all! But I do have to come up with something to say; he's waiting expectantly.

"I…well, because I was so entirely sour towards my fellow Telmarines, I suppose." Maybe it was because Aunt told me about Tanssi Kuun too and magical creatures were wonderful to me and not fearsome, but I'm not about to mention that to anyone, let alone someone I've only spoken to twice.

I try to ignore that I've only really spoken with Darin thrice and already I'm allowing him to help me find that entry tree.

"Is that all?" King Caspian seems so perplexed by this.

"Maybe stories my aunt would tell me had something to do with it as well," I admit.

"Stories? Your aunt told you stories about Narnia?"

"No, just stories about fantastical things. I always loved those stories."

King Caspian seems like he's about to ask what they were about, but something in my face stops him. He looks in my eyes and swallows whatever he was about to say. I silently thank him with the same eyes he keeps looking back to.

A moment or two of silence passes between the two of us, and then King Caspian's bowing and excusing himself and I'm nodding and saying goodbye in a daze.

I just had a conversation with the king. No, that's not the remarkable part. The king, the KING of Narnia, knew who I was. How on earth did he know it was me, peeking out from behind that tree at Beruna so long ago? How could he remember something so insignificant in the wake of the battle that decided the fate of Narnia?

And then I remember my aunt, and her stories, and I have to swallow the lump that quickly forms in my throat. What would she think of me, failing to protect Tanssi Kuun? Failing to find my entry tree, for over a year? A year Tanssi Kuun has been without a protector.

She'd be so disappointed.

I swallow again, and again. It vaguely strikes me how much I want to be able to confide in someone about this, but I know I simply can't. Tanssi Kuun is far too important to put in danger simply because I'm under a bit of stress. What could be more selfish than that?

No, but what if keeping it so secret is selfish? Am I harming it by refusing to ask for help? If I am, I hope I remedied that tonight by accepting help from Darin.

I only hope I don't regret that. How I could use my aunt's advice right now! She always seemed to know just what to do! And here I am, failing consistently. She really would be disappointed, wouldn't she?

Realizing my eyes are watering against my will, I dart off from the crowd and slip into an abandoned alley, where I know I won't be found. Here, I can take just a minute to collect myself.

For a minute and a minute only, I indulge in all my doubt and self-imposed guilt. I let a few tears slip down my cheeks, and then my minute's up. I stand once more, wipe the evidence of my weakness from my cheeks. And I return to the crowds, but only to find Lilia and tell her I'm going to bed. I need to catch a few hours of sleep before I'll be strong enough to go and search for my entry tree again.

Luckily for me, I find Lilia without too much trouble. She looks a bit downcast that I'm calling it a night 'so soon,' but when she sees the bags under my eyes, she pats me on the shoulder and tells me to go ahead and get some sleep. I'm only too happy to obey.

"Leaving so soon?"

"I need a few hours' sleep before I go out again tonight," I tell Darin.

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight," I reply wearily.

"I'll be at the bridge waiting then."

"You don't have to-"

"Rosamar, go get some sleep. I'll be there."

I'm too tired to argue. My little self-pity fest took a bit more out of me than I thought it would. The walk home seems to take forever, but I manage it. How could I not? I clutch the pendant around my neck, hidden under my clothes, to remind me what's really important. Not me, not my sleep, not anything else but a world that needs protection. A world I've been entrusted with. A world I'll do anything for, because that's what Aunt would have done.

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><p><strong>sarahwood - Haha sorry, I have a kind-of-small-kind-of-big fondness for <strong>**cliffies! Also, sorry about the wait! But hopefully that won't be happening again :) I hope you liked Caspian and Rose's conversation!**

**Review!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Just when I thought everything was settling down, I end up traveling all over four states over a long weekend. And needless to say, none of the places I ended up had WiFi. Go figure. Good news is I've used up any bad karma for the next decade or so!**

**Enough with me, on to the story!**

**Thank you to wildhorses1492 for reviewing, and thank you to all those of you who've favorited/followed/read this!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Miraculously, I wake exactly when I planned to, just as the night is quiet and the stars are high. I dress quickly and pull my cloak on as I slip outside. I'm careful to be silent as a cat, just in case Lilia's still up, though I doubt she is at this hour. Still, I can't be too careful.

Even more amazing than my relative state of wakefulness: Darin's there at the bridge, just as he said he would be.

"I wasn't sure you would be here," I admit in a whisper as I approach, my breath clouding in front of me.

"Well, here I am," he answers with a somehow charming smile.

'You only just met me…'

"How long I've known you does not matter."

I didn't realize I said that aloud. Thank goodness the moon is barely a sliver tonight, so my slight embarrassment remains hidden.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet; we haven't found your tree."

I answer his chuckle with a smile and lead the way onward.

"Thank you for coming anyway."

"You're welcome."

We walk along, myself much quieter than my companion, and soon enough we're in the woods. Thoughts of whether this is a truly wise decision swirl in my head as we progress through the trees. I could keep looking on my own, but how much longer will that take?

"Try and keep up," I find myself whispering, as much to distract myself from my doubts as to jest with Darin.

"Where do we start?" he huffs, branches cracking under his feet as he struggles to follow me closely.

"We're almost there. I've checked all of these."

Darin nods and follows me along until I come to a stop at the line I drew in the ground last night.

"Start here. Stay to the left, I'll stay to the right. Check all of them for an engraving."

"Why do you get the right side?"

There's just enough moonlight for me to see the glint in his eye.

"Would you prefer the right?" I counter, rolling my eyes.

He just shakes his head and smiles.

"What does it look like?"

I can't show him the pendant; I know that. So I scribble a rough sketch in the dirt.

"Something very similar to that."

"Similar? How will I know I found the right one? There might be more than one, you know."

"Shush and just start looking, Darin."

We both grin and split up. It continues on much the same as every night since I moved to the city; I check each and every tree I come to meticulously. Aunt never said where the engraving would be, so I run my practiced hands over the bark I can reach before I move on. Somehow I doubt the engraving would be higher than I can reach, if it's specifically my entry tree.

The first hour goes by, and my lack of sleep starts to catch up to me, as it always does. I start my ritual of pinching the tender skin between my thumb and index finger to keep myself alert.

"Any luck, Darin?" I call.

"Not thus far," he calls back, sounding much more awake than I'd have expected. I have to admit, I'm a little impressed.

The second hour passes with the same results, and Darin surprises me. He doesn't complain of boredom, and he doesn't leave, and he doesn't give up. He just carries on, as tirelessly as me. I can't help but be more and more intrigued as the minutes tick maddeningly by.

No one's ever helped me like this before. How does this man who only met me yesterday care so much? It's as baffling as it is flattering. I'm glad to have found a friend in my search, even one who knows so little. Perhaps that's the truly extraordinary part of it; Darin knows only the bare minimum he needs to help me, and he never presses for more information. He just searches without question, without complaint. And I can't understand it.

First the dagger, now this. I owe him twice over now. Somehow, I don't think he minds. If I was crazy, I might even think he doesn't care, but I'm not quite that far gone yet. Though if I can't find my entry tree soon, I might very well go mad.

"Rosamar!"

I start from my gloomy thoughts with a sharp, "What?"

"You'd better come look at this."

Could it be-? No. No, I couldn't get my hopes up, just in case Darin's mistaken or playing some sick joke. But still, hope bubbles in my chest against my will.

Though I try to walk at a measured pace over to Darin, I break into a run before I even take two steps. After over a year, is it possible that-?

"Where? Show me!" I demand as soon as I find my voice again and I've skidded up next to him.

"Here, look." Darin guides my hand to a piece of bark at chest-level, and I almost break into tears right there. I can tell just by feel that it's the exact design of the pendant around my neck.

"By the Lion, Darin, you've found it!" I gasp, my free hand fluttering to cover my gaping mouth. I'm incapable of anything other than gasping and staring and mutely wondering how in all the worlds I've gotten this lucky.

"Happy I could help," he whispers in my ear.

I barely hear him.

My entry tree. My way into Tanssi Kuun. I've waited so long…will it be everything Aunt said it was?

A sudden cold fear grips my chest.

What if it's not?

"Thank you," I breathe out, in spite of my sudden doubts about the secret world. Whether it turns out to be as wonderful as Aunt described it or not, it's still under my care and protection. I'll love it no matter what it is.

"You're welcome," he murmurs, breath still warm against my cheek. It barely occurs to me that I don't really mind. "What is it? Or can you not tell me?"

"I would if I could, believe me. I owe you more than I can say," I breathe out at I trace the etching again and again with reverent fingertips.

He waves off my statement. Waves off the unpayable debt I owe him, as if it's nothing. Who is this man, that he waves off debts? An angel?

"As I said, I'm only pleased to have helped you."

In my joy, I almost forget he's there, and I press a fervent kiss to the engraving, my gate into Tanssi Kuun. I've waited so long, too long, to feel that design under my fingertips.

I come back to myself after a single tear of happiness spills from my eye. There'll be time for my emotion later; for now, Darin's earned his rest, and perhaps I have too.

"Let's get back. We both need the sleep, I think."

"Wait, one moment," he says.

I start to ask why, but when he draws lines in the ground leading to the tree and ties a strip of cloth he rips from the bottom of his shirt to a branch, I understand. I'll want to be able to find this tomorrow. And we're so deep in the forest that someone else stumbling on this is unlikely. Even if they do, I have the only keys.

"Thank you once again," I murmur. I owe him everything.

"Don't mention it," he replies with a smile as he finishes his work.

I can only shake my head in wonder at his kindness and wordlessly lead the way out of the woods back toward the city.

We're both silent the entire way back, though for entirely different reasons; I'm in shock, and he's likely either very understanding or very tired, or quite possibly both.

We stop at the end of the bridge, and I repeat my stream of 'thank you's until he hushes me and gently kisses my knuckles while telling me to go home and get some sleep, if I can.

Once again, I'm left speechless. I stand there and watch him go for a good half-minute before I shake myself from my stupor and slip along the dark street toward my home. I have to feel my way a lot of the walk though; my eyes can't stop seeing the engraving there in the tree. Several times I stumble, because my fingers remember the feel of that blessed carving so well.

At last, I stumble inside my hut and ease the door shut as carefully as my shaking hands reasonably can. My thoughts are a complete jumble as I fall into bed, too caught up in this miracle of a night to remember to undress. To my surprise, I fall asleep rather quickly, though I dream of what Tanssi Kuun might be like all night long. It could be a world like the wilds of Narnia, or a desert like Calormen, or a tropical sort of place that I've only heard about in books, or perhaps something altogether unimaginable to me. It could be anything, and Aunt gave me so few hints.

By the time morning rolls around, my mind is so exhausted from all its dreaming that I almost sleep in.

"Come on, Rose, up!" I have to order myself in my sternest voice to get my body to listen to me.

It only just barely listens, but it does listen. I move about as slow as molasses, and I almost don't make it to my stool in time.

"Rose, child, that's twice in a row you've almost been late! Are you alright?"

"Fine, Sima. I've never been better," I wheeze as I catch my breath and take my first handful of wool for the day.

"How was the faire, Lilia?" I ask, as much out of politeness as to distract them from my sluggish state.

"Everything I thought it would be! There was such dancing, and the music! The young men were very kind as well, and the second one I danced with…"

I smile and nod and hum when needed to keep Lilia chattering on, but my mind's already with Tanssi Kuun. What will the beings that live there be like? Will they look like me? Or are they something of another kind entirely? Will they have heard of me? What will they think? What _do_ they think, if they've already heard of me? Are they angry it's taken me so long to find them? Will they welcome me? What do they do with their time? Is it true what Aunt said about their disagreements? Are they as perfect as she made them seem? What dances can they teach me? What songs do they sing?

"…and you are listening, aren't you?"

"Of course! Please, continue," I reply to Lilia's suspicious question. I ought to feel a bit bad for ignoring her, but I know she wants to talk about the faire, and I want some time where I don't have to say much of anything so I can bask in my curiosity and my pure joy. I want to remember every detail of last night! So really, this arrangement works out well for the both of us. Often, Lilia doesn't really need an audience when she talks; she just needs to feel as if she has one.

And besides, it's not as if I can share my good news with her and Sima. First of all, they'd likely never understand. And second of all, even if they would I can't tell them because I can't tell anyone. Tanssi Kuun is a secret for a reason.

It takes me a second too long to figure out that Lilia's ceased her chatting, and I have to scramble for a quick save.

"I'm sorry, I was visualizing. I was a bit distracted there, after all."

It must be convincing, because Lilia and Sima nod. But as soon as I make to return to my carding, Sima pipes up.

"Rose, did you get a wink of sleep last night? You look positively exhausted!"

"More than yesterday?" I joke.

"Yes, more than yesterday. You are alright, aren't you?" Lilia asks.

"Yes, I really am. I promise."

They don't seem entirely convinced, but hopefully my glowing happiness will convince them before too long.

"And as for last night, how did the faire go for you?"

"It went well," I answer simply. My mind simply isn't on the faire, not at all.

"Thank you for sharing the details. Did you dance with anyone?"

"Darin. Oh, and the king," I rattle off. "It was a big Narnian dance, so I danced with a lot of people, actually."

"You danced with the king?!" Lilia screeches.

"As I said, I danced with a lot of people for that dance. He just happened to be one of them."

Sima lets out a barking laugh, and I look up to silently ask why.

"See how calm you are, child! Only one with a solid head on her shoulders could be so blasé!" she cackles. I for one can't quite understand what's so funny, but Sima's laugh is contagious and makes the corners of my mouth quirk upward.

Meanwhile, Lilia's jaw hangs slack as her eyes demand more detail than I've provided thus far.

"Do we lowly creature receive any more explanation than that, dearest Rose?" she finally stutters out, her shock still written in her bugged eyes and slack jaw.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come across that way…"

"Share a few more details and you'll be quite forgiven."

I laugh and oblige as well as I can.

"Well Darin talked me into joining in the dancing. It went by quite fast, and I didn't really pay attention to who I was dancing with from moment to moment because it all spun by. At some point, I realized I was dancing with King Caspian."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did you dance with King Caspian, you silly thing!"

I reign in my slight impatience and continue answering dutifully, though I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy this just a little.

"A few turns. He seemed to remember me from somewhere…"

"You know him?!"

"He seemed to think so."

"And that's all you're going to say?"

"Should I say more?"

"I confess I am rather curious, in case you have failed to realize that."

Lilia does love her sarcasm from time to time.

"Apparently he remembered seeing me somewhere in the crowd during his coronation procession."

"He saw you in the crowd, and he remembered your face?"

"I suppose so," I say with a shrug. For some reason, I don't feel like sharing the more intimate detail that he saw me at Beruna. Something about that feels special enough to keep to myself. I am a private person, after all.

"Well, I think we can all agree that every last woman and girl in this city would die of envy if they knew," Lilia finally laughs.

"Does that include you, or no?"

"Oh no Rose, you're my friend and I can't envy you. However, I can let you know that you are a very lucky young woman."

"I'm not a romantic, Lilia."

"I think we can all agree on that point as well. However, can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that the King of Narnia taking an interest in you, however slight, does _not_ put a bit of a smile on your face?"

"No, of course not. I was shocked, believe me."

"I always believe you."

"Not when I insist I'm alright, though," I point out.

"That's another story," she chuckles, waving it off with ease. I'm still much too ecstatic over last night's little discovery to care.

"In any case, is there any other sharing about last night you'd like to do?"

"I believe I was done, unless you have questions."

"Nothing comes to mind."

"Child, if I didn't know any better, I might think your head is buried in the clouds today," Sima suddenly blurts out.

"Then I'm very happy you know better."

My head might be in the clouds, but not for the reason they think. Yes, a king took enough interest in me to say hello. But what is that, compared to finding my entry tree? If my head's to be in the clouds over another person, it'd be over Darin. He was the one who found it, after all. And he came out to help me look for it without knowing but the barest minimum in the dead of night when normal human beings are asleep.

"Rose!"

"Beg pardon?"

"Your head truly is in the clouds, no matter what you say!" Sima exclaims, throwing her hands in the air above her head in exasperation.

"I apologize, I-"

"No need to apologize, simply admit to it," Lilia suggests.

"Alright; yes, my head is in the clouds. Is that better?"

"Much better, yes."

"I'm glad for it." With that, I almost slip away into my own happy, happy thoughts again.

"Oh no, here she goes again!"

"Alright child, we'll just agree to leave you and your blissful thoughts alone for the day. Alright?"

I nod happily to Sima, thankful that she does know when to let me be.

"Thank you!"

"Well, all you had to do was ask in the first place."

I just smile at Lilia and marvel at my unusually thick shell. Perhaps I should make more of an effort to be ecstatically happy. I'm not so sensitive as I usually am.

True to their word, Lilia and Sima leave me be for the rest of the day. For them, it seems to fly by. For me, it drags on and on until I have to continually bite my lip to keep from shrieking my impatience for the entire city to hear.

At last, at long, long, long last the sun begins to set. My energy's never been this high, so my wool carding for the day is already done. I have to fight hard to keep from squirming in my seat.

"Oh for heaven's sake child, go on now! You've finished for the day; you are free to go," Sima suddenly barks.

I leap from my stool all too happily, knocking it over in the process. After righting it with hands shaking with anticipation, I hurry to stuff the perfectly carded wool into a bag for tomorrow. Once that's done, I dart over and engulf Sima in a crushing hug and practically dance out the door. My excitement knows no bounds now! I'm free to explore Tanssi Kuun, a world I've been waiting anxiously to see for well over a year. How proud Aunt would be of me today! Trusting Darin really was the right thing to do.

By the time I make it to my hut and slip on more appropriate shoes, I can barely keep myself from singing in the loudest voice I own. Getting ready to see this new world is the work of less than 5 minutes, and I literally run out my door by the time the minutes crawl by. At first, I think I have the restraint to merely walk very very quickly, but my feet are much less patient than I think they are; not only do I run out of the city, I full out sprint the entire way to the woods. By the time I get to the tree, my entry tree, I can barely draw breath into my lungs.

"You're worth that run and a million more!" I gasp to the tree as I draw the pendant from under my dress and press it to its matching engraving. I take a deep breath before I utter one word and one word alone.

"Kuu."

For a moment, nothing happens. And then the tree opens; opens! The entire trunk seems to glow from within, and a rectangle exactly the right size for me opens before my eyes. I can barely breath, but somehow my lungs keep working enough to keep me conscious.

"I'll make you proud, Aunt," I promise. Somehow, I get the feeling she can hear me. And other than finally finding my way into Tanssi Kuun, it's the absolute best feeling in the world.

"Thank you, Darin," I whisper. I'll never stop owing him for this.

With one final heaving breath of air, I step into the open tree.

Tanssi Kuun lies before my eyes.

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><p><strong>Sorry, I couldn't resist...<strong>

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	8. Chapter 7

**I've got some good news for you guys! Good news first: I've decided to do a two-month long WriMo to make sure I don't run out of prewritten stuff for this story, so you can rest easy in the knowledge that updates will continue to come very two weeks until the end of the story. Yay! If for some reason it's been over two weeks, just send me a PM and yell at me and I'll get it up that same day ;)**

**Thank you to wildhorses1492 for the wonderful review!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"Unbelievable." Even my awed whisper seems far too loud. I've never been somewhere so quiet.

Is it night here too? Or is it always like this, with the stars twinkling down from a cloudless sky? Where is the moon? And why do the plants seem to glow? Is that normal? And what of the trees I can see in the distance; are they all pine, or does something else lie beyond them? How different this is from Narnia, even more so than I was expecting.

"Aunt, I wish you told me a bit more," I murmur into the still air. Seeing this place, seeing what she passed on to me...it makes me miss her so much it hurts deep in my chest.

At the same time, I fully understand why she wanted me to discover it on my own. Nothing could replace this wonder that comes from seeing Tanssi Kuun for the first time.

I can't help myself; I fold my legs underneath me and sink down to the ground, marveling at the spiky grass that snags my dress. Narnian grass is softer, but there's a wildness about this grass that's grayish blue in the moonlight.

How everyone might laugh at my gaping at the grass! But 'everyone' isn't here, now are they?

That thought sends the first giggle I've giggled in my life up my throat. No people to worry with here, only beings Aunt assured me were the very pinnacle of good. Well, she did warn me about their lack of humor, but I think I'll be able to live with that quite easily. What am I saying? Of course I can!

Another giggle bursts from my lips, and I clap my hands over my mouth. Giggling seems wrong, somehow. I'm giddy and ecstatic, but I keep feeling the urge to feel that way in a calmer, steadier manner.

I can wonder as I walk, can't I? Yes, yes I can. I've got to find these creatures I'm to protect for the rest of my life.

My legs straighten under me, and then I'm on my feet and wading into the grass that gets taller with every step, until it comes to just under my nose. One tickles my face as I pass, and I have to pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the sneeze. Sneezing seems wrong too, especially when I know mine sound more like a cat's than a human's.

If I do see any cats here, I'll have no trouble communicating.

My eyes lift to regard the black-as-ink sky, and I truly can't help my gasp of wonder. I've never seen such stars! They're far too bright to hold a candle to Narnia's, and they seem to come in every color imaginable, even colors I never even knew existed. I've never seen stars with color before. Reds and golds and greens and blues and purples and oranges and whites and some that look to be some combination of those.

'I see why you loved this place, Aunt.'

"Indeed she did, Rosamar."

In Narnia, the strange voice would've had me whirling around with my fist closed in fear. Here, I turn to face it slowly and with a smile on my face. Is this the first of the creatures I'm to meet?

"I'd ask if you knew her, but that might be silly."

The glowing, humanoid shape nods its head, more merrily than I'd have expected.

"Come along, Rosamar, we've all been wanting to meet you for such a long time."

I feel more wanted than I've ever felt in my life. How strange, to feel such strong things from a simple sentence.

I blink back the water in my eyes and the biggest smile I knew I could produce spreads across my face.

"What's your name?"

"There is no need for names here, Rosamar. You'll get used to it in time."

That raises my curiosity. No names? How do they talk to each other?

"Aunt never mentioned that."

"Your aunt never mentioned many things, as is the tradition."

"So I could love it more as I discover it myself?"

"Yes, precisely."

I'd stay silent now, but I want to know so much.

"Is it always night here?"

"This is night now, yes. When the kuu comes out, that is our day."

"Do the stars stay out then as well?"

"No, the stars are for our night only." The glowing being stops for a moment, but somehow I know the silence is loaded. "Are they very different from the Narnian stars?"

I'm briefly surprised that Aunt didn't explain, but with such a world around me, I might well forget to talk about my homeland too.

"Very different, yes. The Narnian stars I've seen are only white, perhaps one or two with a tinge of blue."

"Forgive my questioning, I've always wondered. You must have so many questions of your own."

"No no, it's perfectly alright. We can take turns asking each other things."

It's hard to tell, but I think the being smiles. It waits patiently for me to ask another question, but I need a moment to look at it, really look.

I'd have expected something that floats above the ground to have wings, but it doesn't seem to; it appears to hover all on its own. But the most extraordinary thing about it is how it glows. Not its body, no. It seems to be wrapped in ribbons of warm-colored light that swirl around it in a constant dance. It's hard to tell its facial features, as the light on them keeps changing by the lazy second. It does seem to be a tiny, slender little thing though. If it were to stand on the ground, it couldn't come higher than my shoulder.

"Are you all so tiny?"

"Indeed we are. Most are actually a head shorter than I."

Somehow, I pick up the slight embarrassment.

"Well I think you're a wonderful size," I say.

It almost fluffs with pride, but then its shoulders slump.

"No, honestly." I hope my voice doesn't leave room for argument. I've felt trodden on enough in my life; I couldn't stand for any of these creatures to feel as I have much of the time.

Wait, why would this being be ashamed of its height? That doesn't belong in Tanssi Kuun, does it?

It stays quiet, flies a little slower. Then its face turns toward mine, and it hovers close to my eyes, searching them for sincerity. I pray it finds it there, even as I wonder why it isn't happy with itself already if Tanssi Kuun is as perfect as Aunt described.

It must see that I meant my words; a smile more luminous than the ribbons of light around it appears on its face. I get the odd feeling it'd hug me if it could, so I open my arms to welcome the gesture. I'm not in the practice of hugging, but the idea doesn't make my nose wrinkle here.

It takes the offer within the first millisecond, its enthusiasm putting an even wider smile on my face. I almost gasp at how warm it is in my arms, but I hold it in, just in case it'd be offended. But it's such a wonderful feeling, to hold something so warm. It's welcoming.

Maybe here I'll get in the practice of hugging.

"Thank you," it whispers in my ear, tiny hands accidentally tugging at my hair.

In answer, I hug it a little tighter and let my eyes close in contentment. In my first minutes here, I've found more love than I had in my entire childhood. Aunt was right; this place really is wonderful.

"We ought to get going. They'll be wondering what's taken me so long to bring you," it suddenly says, pulling away faster than I can process.

"Rose."

"I beg pardon?"

"Call me Rose." Only friends call me Rose. I only have friends here.

In answer, it flies a little lower and takes my hand to lead me along. I, who've never appreciated contact, find myself beaming. I've never felt so pleasantly warm and content.

The walk there goes blissfully slow and far too quickly. I want to stop and savor every blade of grass glinting in the starlight, every tree in the forest we enter after a few minutes of walking, every pine needle cluster that flattens under my feet. Things don't crunch here, it seems. What must it be like to actually live here day in and day out? I think I'll have to find out.

"Don't think that just yet, Rose. Things are not so perfect as they seem."

"You can hear my thoughts?"

"We all know each other's souls here. We have no need to read thoughts."

"I suppose I better practice that then," I muse.

"It will come naturally to you, in time."

"Only with you and only here though, yes?"

"Exactly, yes."

It looks sideways at me and grins, or seems to.

"I see why your aunt liked you so much, Rose. She chose well."

I almost ask how it knows, but then I remember what it just said. Right.

"Are you a he or she?" I blurt out.

"Neither," it answers. Is that a note of sadness in its voice?

I tip my head to the side in curiosity.

"We have no gender, none of us."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, I promise."

"Oh Rose, if only you knew how false that is!"

I can't help but be taken aback by its vehemence.

"We cannot bond with each other in that way. You see? We have no mates or lovers or bonded partners. We never experience that sort of love. You are luckier than you know."

My mouth opens and closes several times, until I'm sure I look like a fish. I'd not be a bit surprised if I do.

"I…never thought of it that way, I suppose. I never planned on marrying."

Its hand closes a bit tighter around mine, flooding me with a new wave of heat.

"If you find someone, you'd be wise to. Do not waste such a gift."

Words fail me, and it seems to understand this. I swallow once, twice, to moisten my throat. That…that never occurred to me before. I've never thought of partnering as a particularly good thing.

"I took that for granted, I suppose," I murmur.

"Let that be your first lesson, then," it replies, far gentler than I'd have expected.

"Lesson?"

"Every protector learns much while here. I wouldn't expect you to be different."

"What were the others like?"

"Many were quiet, just as you are. A few have loved their homeland as much as they love this world, but most are relieved to spend time here."

"Have any lived their entire lives here?"

"Only two."

I don't have to ask to figure out that that wasn't approved of.

"Protecting Tanssi Kuun is not a life, it is only a responsibility gifted. It should not take up the entirety of one's life. Our protectors are meant to split their life here and their life in their home."

"Even if this place is more a home than they've ever had?"

"Yes, even then. Their fellow beings would miss their absence."

I'm about to disagree, but all I have to remember is Lilia and Sima. I know they'd miss me, even just a little.

"Lesson number two, I imagine?"

It smiles, and then it laughs a surprisingly husky laugh.

"Perhaps, yes."

I smile, my eyes trained on the whirling lights surrounding this seemingly wise and beautiful creature. I almost miss the many more clusters of light ribbons that appear as we leave the grass behind for an open plain ringed by more of the pine-like trees. But I don't, and my breath flies from my lips when I see them all. So many…

My first thought is how they can possibly have no need for names.

"You will learn, Rose, you will learn, in time," the being who guided me whispers, its hand leaving mine. I instantly miss the warmth.

It flies, or rather floats, toward its kin, and I'm left standing there to drown in my awe. How lucky am I, to be charged with protecting such exquisite creatures in such a wondrous place?

"Welcome, Protector," they all chorus.

Not chorus in speaking, no. They sing their welcome, and I have to fight to keep my jaw from hanging open like a door with a broken hinge. Do they sing often? Do they always sing so well?

As if in answer, they begin a song in a language I don't yet know; I only know that it's beautiful and I have to keep blinking salt water from my eyes. I hope no one asks me to describe this, because I know I never could. How could anyone put words to this? It's too heart-wrenchingly exquisite.

Once they finish and I take a moment to blink my eyes clear again, they swarm close to me, until I can't see anything but ribbons of light in every color in every direction. So many of them, how can I look after them all?

"You are overwhelmed?" a honey-sweet voice asks in my ear.

I can only bob my head like an idiot. I can't imagine how I'd be otherwise!

"Perhaps…" one begins.

"A dance will calm you?" another continues.

A dance? Dance, with them? Why, of course!

I nod with wide, amazed eyes.

"Come then, Rose. Show us how you dance, and we will show you how we do the same."

I don't have to think before I take an outstretched hand and let them lead me farther into the plain. I'm vaguely grateful for the lack of any sort of vegetation. The grass could get a little prickly, especially for dancing.

They clear from around me, and immediately my arms raise, almost of their own accord. I always like to move my arms before the rest of my body. It feels like the natural progression of dance, and no one's ever told me otherwise.

My left arm traces a sweeping arc from above my head to my shoulders, and my right opens from the middle of my chest out to my side. I let my back and torso bend with the movement as it finishes. I almost fluff up with pride when the creatures of light make what seem to be sighs of approval.

My feet take their first few steps, spinning steps that bounce over the earth with all the grace in my body. I pride myself on making no more than a whisper of noise when my feet make contact with the ground. I instilled that in myself from early on. For me, quiet is grace.

As soon as my body warms to my dancing, I begin asking the more difficult things of it. The creatures of light have started up a humming, throbbing sort of song, and at the perfect break, I open both my arms, elbows rounded, and lift my leg in a slow kick that reaches above my head. I've gotten flexible over the years. A demure smile breaks across my lips when a collective sigh goes up among the light creatures. I like to think my dancing pleases them. After all, they please me, very much.

Suddenly, my eye catches something flying my way. On instinct, I shy away from it, but then I see that it's only a ribbon of light. From the smirk on one of the being's faces, it threw it to test me.

Alright then.

I swing myself back around and catch the ribbon with my foot, spinning it through the air and letting it float back down. I raise an arm to the sky and let it fall down my arm, across my shoulders, and down to my other hand. I catch the wisp of a thing with ease and grin as I gently toss it back to its owner.

It may be my imagination, but the creatures' lights seem to brighten. Did that please them? I know it pleased me.

Another ribbon comes flying toward me, this time a pale blue rather than a flashing red. Somehow, I want to treat this one with more care and less showiness. So I catch it in a cradle of my arms and let it wisp around for a bit, watching with fascination as it curls in on itself only to unfurl and stretch out, with a motion surprisingly similar to one of the city's cat's morning stretches. On one of its uncurling moments, I open my arms, expecting it to fall. I'm oh so pleasantly surprised when it only hangs there, as if waiting my next move.

I dip into an exaggerated curtsy, remembering to keep my eyes up. Aunt taught me that.

The memory of her puts a bit more finesse into my movements, and I feel my arms not only open, but strain into an extension I rarely attempt. I feel it all the way to the tips of my fingers. My shoulders shake from the effort, but it's very much worth it.

The ribbon folds itself into half and waits. I only realize it's bowing when it straightens and wiggles its way toward me, zigzagging in its flowing path. This is a playful, graceful ribbon.

I release my trembling arms from their pose and soften my body as I stretch out my hand to the pulsing, wriggling ribbon. It tickles the back of my hand for a few moments before sliding down my arm and wrapping around it until it's around my entire forearm. A tail just long enough to be an extension of my hand dangles from my wrist.

Another ribbon, the same color, floats toward my other arm, and I extend my hand, palm up, to welcome it. It too winds around my forearm and leaves a tail. I now have ribbons to dance with.

So I do. I leap and glide and twirl on the tips of my toes. I've never felt so free. My dancing ribbons stay with me the entire way, even lengthening when I stretch out the arm it's on. More ribbons come my way, and I dance with each of them, sometimes more than one at a time, before I send them back to their owners. Some return for a second, a third, a fourth dance, and I'm only too happy to oblige.

This continues for what might be the better part of an hour, but to me it seems like minutes only. How did they know exactly how to welcome me? Did Aunt tell them all about me?

The dance winds down, and by their nods, yes, Aunt told them much about me. I grin.

"The best welcome I've ever had," I whisper, surprised at my lack of breath.

The creatures float forward to encircle me again, embracing me in a mass sort of hug. Their ribbons tickle my cheeks.

"So what am I to do, exactly? Aunt only told me to protect, never how to go about it."

"Most things are well now, Rose. You needn't worry just yet."

Somehow, I catch the undercurrent there. Yet?

"So there is something the matter?"

"Train yourself first, and then we will explain."

I have to bite my lip to keep a sudden complaint from escaping. Am I a child, for secrets to be kept from me? How can I protect them if they won't let me?

"Patience," one of them chides.

I duck my head so they won't see the uncharacteristic defiance sparking in my eyes. I'm not sure where it's coming from, but I have the good sense to be ashamed of it. What would Aunt think of me? Oh she'd just be so proud. My head hangs a little further in shame.

If the creatures notice, they don't say anything.

Where is the one who welcomed me? He, she, it seemed to understand me. We connected.

As if on cue, it comes forward.

"Perhaps it's time you returned home for a bit. You've learned much in a very short time."

I almost protest, but I bite any words on my tongue back. It's not my place to disagree, is it? After all, I'm the new one here. I'm the stranger to this land.

So I nod my ducked head and let it lead me away from the plain and into the tall, prickly grass.

That was nothing like I was expecting. I just can't decide if that's good or bad.

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	9. Chapter 8

**For some reason, this is one of my favorite chapters so far. I don't ****know, something about this one was so easy to write and edit. It's one of those happy muse chapters. **

**Thank you to sarahwood and wildhorses1492 for your lovely reviews! A special shout-out to wildhorses1492 for reviewing not just the past chapter, but every chapter of this story! Reading your reviews always makes me smile :)**

**Without further ado, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

**(Caspian POV)**

Caspian had quite forgotten about the girl he'd almost run over until he saw her at the faire. Well, more like bumped into her by accident. He'd been surprised, pleasantly so, when she wound up as his partner in one of the group dances. He wasn't sure why he'd held onto her for more than his turn. But perhaps, after remembering she was the girl who wasn't afraid at Beruna, it made a bit more sense.

Caspian hadn't gone to his Professor after all, only because he was sure he knew to stay away and mind his kingly duties. He didn't have the time to go chasing after a girl, even one so different as Rosamar. He'd only held on to her during the dance because he was curious, intrigued even. Yes, that was it.

Still, in spite of that, Caspian can't help but perk up with interest when a slip of paper falls out of the mountainous stack at his desk – a slip of paper that mentions a quiet girl with black hair and a habit for sneaking around. Somehow, he knows it's Rosamar.

Wait one moment…sneaking around? That bit doesn't sound like her, though Caspian knows he can't profess to know her very well at all. But she doesn't seem the sneaking type. She wasn't the dangerous type either.

'Neither was your aunt Prunaprismia, yet she shot you in the arm,' his mind whispers.

The thought surprises him, but he can't deny its truth. He'd learned the hard way that people become quite different under pressure.

So he lets out a sigh he wasn't aware of holding and studies the note scrawled on a scrap piece of paper a bit closer.

_To His Royal Majesty, Caspian X, King of Narnia and Telmar:_

_Your Majesty, I would not bother you lest I had good reason. I know you are very busy, and it is only out of the most sincere concern for Your Majesty's safety and well-being that I bring forward such a seemingly small concern to your attention. I hope you will forgive any breach of conduct or lack of manners on my part. _

_There is a young woman, new to the city, whom I think Your Majesty might wish to place a spy upon. You see, Your Most Gracious Majesty, she often sneaks off in the middle of the night, and sometimes even in the day. I have tried to follow her at times, but she is very careful to slip out of my grasp, almost as if she knows I am following closely. I only know that she disappears off somewhere in the woods, and I am sorry to say I know not where. Believe me, my king, I would if I could. _

_She also keeps a dagger on her at all times; rather, all the times I have seen her, it is there on her hip. I cannot help but find this odd, as the city is safe and the custom of carrying a weapon is not one found here, nor is it a custom I am aware of anywhere else in Narnia. Perhaps she was encouraged to do this at her hometown of Beruna, but I have heard no mention of such a custom. Even so, she did not carry a weapon for her first year here. I find it suspicious, Your Majesty._

_I feel I must give you as much information on this young woman as I can if you deem anything must be done. Here is all I know:_

_She is a recent inhabitant, and I believe she moved to the city on the very day of your coronation. I confess I do not think so lightly of this either. She is a young woman of no more than twenty years, perhaps a year or so fewer. Her hair is long, thick, and black. She is of an average build, neither notably slender nor notably heavy, and of an average height as well. Her face is rather unextraordinary as well, its features plain and understated. Her eyes are a dark brown, her cheeks well enough defined, and her chin a pleasant enough shape. One could not easily pick her from a crowd. Her one defining feature is her lightness of step. Perhaps she loves to dance, perhaps she is naturally quick and quiet on her feet, or perhaps she trained herself that way. In any case, you will find few who slip easier through the shadows and the streets, and even fewer who do it with such grace. If her behaviors did not concern me so, I would no doubt admire her skill with her feet. Her hands too are graceful and quick, though not skilled in weaponry, I think. They do not have the callouses I would expect from a skilled swordsman (or woman). However, I do know she is a carder at the wool workshop in the west wing of the city. It's very easy to find, should Your Majesty find need to send someone there. Look only for the brightly colored florist shop two doors down the street._

_I pray I have been some use to Your Majesty, and that this issue be not as serious as I have begun to fear it is. I do not mean to assume, but it almost seems as if she is meeting someone, or many someones, in the woods at night. This gives me concern, especially with Your Majesty's reign still so young._

_With all due respect and love to Your Majesty,_

_A concerned citizen of the city_

Well, what in the name of the Lion was he to think of that? Caspian reads and rereads and rerereads the paper until his eyes start to cross, and still he doesn't want to believe it. No, Rosamar had always seemed very sweet, reserved and guarded, but kind and good nonetheless. But then, Caspian really couldn't claim to know her very well. She could have everyone fooled. But her face seemed so honest…

No, best to reserve his opinion until he had proof of things being one way or the other. Perhaps he'd better consult his Professor on this. Yes, Professor Cornelius always gave good advice.

With that, Caspian rises from his admittedly comfortable chair at his admittedly cluttered desk and makes his way to the Professor's study. The door is cracked open, but Caspian knocks anyway. The Professor's hearing is starting to fray because of his age, and on more than one occasion Caspian's negligence to knock has given the old scholar half of a heart attack.

"Professor?" he calls, rapping his knuckles a few steady times on the thick wood.

"Yes, my king, do come in," the kindly old half-dwarf replies from somewhere within.

Caspian remembers that the Professor used to call him 'my prince.' He misses those days, in an odd little way. He was under his uncle's control to more of an extent than he cares to remember, but he was ignorant of many things that now serve to torment him whenever he's alone with his thoughts. Things had been a good deal simpler back then. Yes, he misses those secret, thrilling escapades the Professor took him from his bed at the most unearthly hours of the night and morning to the astronomy tower and taught him to chart the stars while telling him the old tales of Narnia.

"What are you working on, Professor?" Caspian asks, both out of politeness and because he's always interested in what his childhood professor is up to.

"For once, my boy, I've taken it upon myself to organize this library of mine. It truly needs the attention, don't you think?"

Caspian takes a few cursory glances around the study, a slight grin quirking his mouth at the many stacks of loose papers, piles of half-rolled scrolls, and highly unstable towers of books that fill the small study.

"As much as this state lends your study a well-loved feel, I do think a bit of organization could do it some good," he answers, still smiling a slightly-crooked smile.

"I couldn't agree more," the Professor replies. At least, that's what Caspian thinks he says; at the moment, his professor is buried behind a dangerously leaning stack of books, and his words come out a bit muffled.

"Now, what brings you here at such an odd hour, my king?"

That was very like Professor Cornelius; he seemed to have a sixth sense regarding Caspian's need for advice.

"It's a bit of a story. If it would be best I wait until another time-"

"Nonsense, my boy! Only come and give me a helping hand with these scrolls, and then we'll sit and hear this story of yours."

Caspian's beside the Professor and accepting an armful of scrolls within the half-minute.

"Why the sudden need to clean, Professor?"

"When an avalanche of precious books falls on you, you may well get the same notion."

Caspian laughs shortly and continues hauling scrolls and books and papers at the professor's direction. After a good quarter hour of this, there seems to be a lull.

"Alright, my king, let's hear your tale."

Caspian carefully lays down his current load of rather hefty tomes and gratefully - and very unregally – plops down into the armchair beside his Professor's.

"Do you remember what I told you of the Battle of Beruna?"

"Quite well, yes."

"Did I ever mention the girl I noticed, peeking out from behind the tree?"

At this, Professor Cornelius straightens in his chair and folds his wrinkled hands over his belly.

"I suppose I did not. In any case, I only noticed her after Reep got his tail back. I'd not have thought anything of it, but for her lack of fear. It was a strange thing to see, a young Telmarine girl unafraid, especially of Aslan."

"Strange indeed…" Professor murmurs in agreement.

"I saw her again when we paraded through the city. Once more, I gave it nothing but a passing thought. Up until a few days ago, I'd forgotten completely about her."

The Professor waited patiently for the king to explain. It was his way.

"That is, until I almost ran her over in the street. It was the day Glenstorm bought me a few hours to myself. I tore through the streets on Destrier, and I'm afraid I gave her quite the fright. She was all respect and deference, though she seemed to have a bit of a…I don't wish to say retort, as it had no mean spirit to it. In any case, I recognized her for a reason I couldn't identify. I remembered her eyes were the ones I saw peeking from behind the tree at Beruna once I'd left her, and I resolved to not go after her to inquire after her blatant lack of fear. It seemed rude, and far from something I had the time for. So I put it from my mind."

"That does seem to be a pattern." The lines of amusement around Professor Cornelius's eyes prompt a slightly sheepish shrug of Caspian's shoulders before he continues.

"I ran into her again at the faire, not two days ago. Something possessed me to keep her as a partner in the dance we bumbled into each other in, though we were not supposed to do so. I confess I did ask her about Beruna, and she only answered that her aunt told her stories, so perhaps that was why she was not frightened by the sight of a lion and a river god."

"And what seems to be the issue then, my king?" Professor Cornelius's eyes are twinkling now, and Caspian outright refuses to acknowledge precisely why that might be.

"I received a handwritten note warning me of a young woman with plain features and a natural grace sneaking off somewhere into the woods in the middle of the night and carrying a weapon everywhere with her. I know it refers to Rosamar; she has grace like no other. The writer fears she is up to something less than savory, only I am not inclined to think so. But how well do I know her, to make that judgment? I am at an impasse, Professor," Caspian finishes, running his palm down his face, the beginnings of his beard rough against his fingers.

"Well now, that is quite a story. The simple answer, my king, is of course to attempt to get to know this young woman better. However, if you suspect her motives to be less than safe to you, I would not suggest it. Your reign is young yet, my king, and not all dissent is worked through yet."

"The writer of the note said as much."

"Very curious, how they managed to get this note into your personal stack of papers…"

Caspian's brow furrows. That didn't occur to him before, and he knows it should have.

"Perhaps they have a friend here at the castle? A servant, perhaps?"

"As long as they are a friend to you, I should imagine it to be alright. But do we know that for certain, any more than we know of Rosamar's loyalty?"

"We cannot, I suppose."

"No, we cannot," the Professor agrees, settling further into his chair and shifting his hands farther up on his rather round belly.

"So which to trust, Professor?"

"I think I would like to hear your ideas."

Caspian tips his head, but obliges.

"I'd like to attempt to get to know Rosamar."

"For more reasons than one, I suspect."

There goes that twinkle in his eye again.

"Perhaps," Caspian answers, as dismissively as possible.

"Of course, you are free to do as you will. Though I would advise you to take caution in whatever you do."

"What do you think I should do, Professor?"

"I would have you set someone to watch this Rosamar. But if what you've told me of her is true, then you should be in little danger."

"We'd better hope she has not yet learned to wield her dagger with much skill," Caspian says with a smirk.

"Indeed." Professor Cornelius's eyes are glinting yet again, and Caspian once more refuses to understand the meaning other than amusement.

But when he rides into the city to find Rosamar's home and pay her a visit, he himself has trouble keeping the Professor's suspicions from creeping into his own mind.

'I have no time for infatuations,' the king reminds himself firmly as he rides up to the workshop closest to where he almost ran poor Rosamar into the cobblestones.

He dons his distantly polite face, the one he often employs when dealing with ambassadors and officials, and knocks on the door to the wool shop. There are the bright flowers two doors down, just as the note said.

It's an hour or so past sunup, and it seems as though work has just begun for the day.

"-After all, who in their right mind would come knocking during work hou-" The door swings open with an indignant squeak, and Caspian suddenly finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with a very intimidating woman. She might be pretty in her middle age, if her forehead wasn't pressed into firm lines of annoyance and her mouth wasn't pinched into a scowl.

"Now, what- Oh! Your Majesty!" Instantly, the annoyance flees, quickly replaced by surprised politeness. The woman sinks into a humble, if somewhat curt, curtsy and takes a step back so as not to be nose-to-nose with the king on her doorstep.

"I beg your pardon for any intrusion, madam-" he begins, only to be cut off by a firm shake of the still-intimidating matron's head.

"No no, quite alright! Don't worry yourself, Majesty. What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a young woman by the name of Rosamar. Does she take residence here?"

"She has a place around back, yes. Is everything alright?"

"Yes indeed, I only wished to speak with her. Is she not in?"

"I'm afraid not, sire. She's run off Lion only knows where. Though I must say, she usually saves her disappearing acts for nighttime, or so Lilia tells me," the woman babbles.

"She does this often?"

"Well this is the first day she's late for work."

"I apologize, I've been horribly rude. I never inquired as to your name, madam." Caspian suddenly remembers his manners in a flurry of etiquette.

"Oh no, the fault is mine. I am Sima, Majesty. You may drop the madam from your tongue."

Caspian has to hold in a shocked laugh at how easily yet gruffly she addresses him. It's certainly refreshing. He might have to make a point to visit often.

"My apologies then, Sima," he manages, free of laughter only by a gift of the Lion.

"None needed, Majesty. I am sorry you've missed her."

"Wait, Sima, is that…?"

"Yes, child, it is the king of Narnia, come to this very doorstep," Sima calls back into the shop. "Oh yes, my manners! Do come in, sire."

If he were not the king, Caspian feels Sima might have shooed him in with a few swats of her hand on his backside. This could well be the reason for the smile consistently present on his face as he obediently steps inside and takes a seat on a free stool Sima indicates to him.

"No couches here, I'm afraid," she says with more humor than true regret.

"It's perfectly alright." Again, Caspian fights the mirth in his voice. He wouldn't want to offend Sima, but by the Lion, she amuses him. What an unusual sort of person, to act as sarcastic as this to the king! He instantly decides he rather likes her.

"Oh lord Sima, why does Rose pick this day to be late?!" a young woman whose name Caspian doesn't yet know exclaims with her hands in the air, spinning wheel temporarily abandoned.

"You'd be wise to thank her, else his Majesty may have never had cause to set foot inside."

Caspian can't help his bemused smile, though he manages to confine it to the corners of his mouth.

"Oh! I'm Lilia, Your Majesty," the young woman says, turning to curtsy rather abruptly after standing so casually to address Sima.

"A pleasure," Caspian replies politely. "I would give you my name as well, but I fear that might be redundant."

Both Lilia and Sima chuckle, and Caspian feels even more at ease than before. If there were any ice, it is long broken.

The visit lasts no more than a half hour, but Caspian finds himself in quite a good mood at the end of it. Sima once more apologizes for having nothing but a stool for him to sit on, though with more dryness than before. She must have noticed him discreetly working the kinks from his legs. Caspian just grins and assures her he didn't mind one bit. Because, in fact, he didn't.

Both the women express regret that Rosamar didn't show while he was visiting, but Caspian good-naturedly dismisses their concern and says he'll simply have to come again and hope she reappears. Though he can't be too sad with how the visit with only the two of them turned out. Rosamar was lucky, to work with two women such as Lilia and Sima.

When he steps outside again, the door closing behind him with a carefree bang, Caspian lets his amusement bring a huge smile to his face. It makes his cheeks hurt a bit. They're not used to being stretched so much. Caspian doesn't smile big smiles very often.

Even though he didn't find Rosamar, he's looking forward to visiting again.

* * *

><p><strong>Oooo, I've got some fun moments planned for Caspian and Rosamar later on...squee! And we should be hearing from Darin soon as well :)<strong>

**sarahwood - Thank you! It certainly was a challenge but I'm glad it seemed to pay off! Fascinating question, about gender...honestly those faeries are still filling me in on themselves, so I'll clarify that when they do. :)**

**Review!**


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